I 


1^^^ 

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I 


The  Holland  Wolves 


Take  them  both  alive  '  " 


Page  383 


The  Holland  Wolves 

By 

J.    Breckenridge    Ellis 

Author  of 
"Garcilaso  "  and  "The  Dread  and  Fear  of  Kings" 

o 

With  six  Full-page  Illustrations  by 
Troy  and  Margaret  Kinney 


Chicago 

A.   C.   McClurg  &  Company 
1902 


COPYRIGHT 

A.  C.  MCCLURG  &  Co. 
1902 

Published  September  20, 1902 


THIS   STORY    IS   DEDICATED 

TO   THE   HONOR   OF  A   DAY   OF   LONG   AGO 

WHOSE   SUNSHINE    LINGERS   STILL 

IN  HEARTS  EVER  YOUNG 


Contents 


BOOK  I.     THE  GATHERING  STORM 

CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE 

THE  COMING  OF  THE  SPANIARDS 9 

CHAPTER   II. 
A  MAIDEN  OF  HOLLAND 32 

CHAPTER  III. 
To  THE  RESCUE 56 

CHAPTER   IV. 
FLIGHT  WITH  ROSAMUNDA 65 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  DASH  THROUGH  THE  PALACE 82 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  SUBTERRANEAN  RETREAT 95 

CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  HOLLAND  WOLVES'  FAREWELL 103 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

BELLE-ISLE'S  DREAM  OF  ROSAMUNDA 126 

iii 


21239915 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   IX. 

PAGB 

THE  DUEL  WITH  ROSAMUNDA 143 

CHAPTER  X. 
ROSAMUNDA'S  SECRET 161 

CHAPTER  XL 
IN  THE  POWER  OF  THE  INQUISITION      .......     169 

CHAPTER   XII. 
HOME  IN  THE  WOODEN  GLOVE 178 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  WOODEN  GLOVE  FOR  Two 192 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
GONZALVO'S  REVENGE 207 

CHAPTER  XV. 
ROSAMUNDA  PLAYS  THE  LOVER 226 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
BELLS-ISLE'S  FAREWELL  TO  ROSAMUNDA 234 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
LITTLE  BLUEMASK  is  UNDECEIVED 239 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
BELLE-ISLE  PREPARES  FOR  ADVENTURES 251 


IV 


CONTENTS 

BOOK    II.       ROSAMUNDA 
CHAPTER    I. 

PAGE 

ROSAMUNDA'S  CHOICE 269 

CHAPTER   II. 
ROSAMUNDA'S  DREAM  OF  BELLE-!SLE 283 

CHAPTER  III. 
ROSAMUNDA  IN  BATTLE 291 

CHAPTER  IV. 
BELLE-ISLE  SENDS  FOR  ROSAMUNDA 298 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  MEETING  IN  THE  WOOD 303 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  REVELATION 309 

BOOK  III.     THE  STORM  RAGES 

CHAPTER   I. 
THE  PATH  OF  WAR 315 

CHAPTER  II. 
HANS  Poor  ATTEMPTS  STRATEGY 322 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   III. 

PAGE 

THE  SPARK  IN  WILHELMINA'S  EYE 329 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  WINNING  OF  WILHELMINA 335 

CHAPTER   V. 
JAN  STANDS  BY  WILHELMINA 343 

CHAPTER  VI. 
ROSAMUNDA'S  Vow • 356 

CHAPTER  VII. 
FOR  WILHELMINA'S  SAKE 360 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
BELLE-ISLE  PROVES  HIMSELF 364 

CHAPTER   IX. 
THE  MASSACRE 372 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  KEEPING  OF  THE  Vow .    377 

CHAPTER  XI. 
JAN  is  READY T 


List  of  Illustrations 

"  'Take  them  both  alive!'  " Frontispiece 

"  'Do  not  throw  away  thy  life  for  the  pleasure  of  a 

shrewd  word '  " Page      l  2 

"With   a   wave  of  his    hand    that  entreated  per- 
mission"         ««        86 

"  'Thou    art    no    more    to    my    taste  than  garlic, 

fair  Sir'  " "148 

"  'Here  we  go,'  he  muttered,   'Belle-Isle  and  his 

sword  against  the  world'  " "       179 

"  'Oh,  Belle-Isle,  but  I  also  am  a  woman!'  "       .  "       237 


The  Holland  Wolves 


BOOK  I.      THE   GATHERING   STORM 
Chapter  One 

THE  COMING   OF   THE   SPANIARDS 

A  THRONG  of  people  lined  the  Brussels  road 
which  stretched  eastward  from  the  gates  of 
Tirlemont.  It  was  a  noon  hour  in  the  last 
days  of  August.  Nature,  in  all  her  rich, 
lusty  voices,  was  calling  to  man  to  open  his  heart  to 
pleasure,  promising  to  supply  the  most  delicious  per- 
fumes and  the  most  melodious  choruses  in  her  stores. 
But  man  stood  sullen  and  unmoved,  with  heart  of  stone 
and  eyes  that  gazed  hopelessly  toward  the  gates  of  Tirle- 
mont. There  were  many  women  among  the  watchers, 
but  voices  spoke  in  muffled  tones,  causing  a  subdued 
hum,  like  the  sound  of  bees  crooning  themselves  to 
sleep  in  their  hive.  When  a  child  burst  into  laughter,  — 
the  natural  flower  of  such  an  innocent  and  tender  bud, 
—  its  mother  would  draw  it  to  her  side  and  hush  it  with 
a  whisper. 

A  young  man,  who  for  some  time  had   been  seen 
slowly  drawing   near   from   across   the    meadows    that 

9 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

sloped  away  toward  Germany,  now  reached  a  group 
standing  upon  the  northern  side  of  the  Brussels  road. 
The  young  man  was  a  foreigner,  which  entitled  him 
to  the  suspicion  and  aversion  of  the  Netherlanders ; 
but  he  was  also  a  man  in  distress,  for  he  limped  upon  a 
stout  staff.  He  was  barefooted,  and  his  clothes  hung 
about  him  in  rags  revealing  a  naked  shoulder  as  white  and 
smooth  as  marble.  He  was  a  blond ;  and,  despite  his 
abject  poverty,  his  fair  skin  and  yellow  locks  shone 
with  scrupulous  cleanliness.  One  foot  was  bandaged. 
The  other,  soiled  only  by  the  passing  dust  of  the 
morning's  journey,  was  as  delicate  and  shapely  as 
its  owner's  hands.  The  features  of  his  upturned  face 
partook  both  of  this  beauty  and  of  this  refinement. 
He  walked  with  his  head  tilted  up,  as  if  his  thoughts 
belonged  to  realms  of  floating  sunshine,  not  to  the 
rough  earth  which  enviously  dragged  at  his  crippled 
foot.  He  stopped  before  a  group  detached  from  the 
other  watchers.  It  stood  about  an  empty  cart,  to 
which  a  splendid  horse,  slender  and  black  as  jet,  was 
harnessed.  A  man  past  middle  life  stood  holding  the 
bit.  A  young  man  and  a  maiden,  obviously  his  son  and 
daughter,  were  beside  him. 

The  stranger  lifted  his  hat,  and  making  a  low  obei- 
sance to  the  daughter,  said,  "  God  give  thee  a  fair 
morning." 

The  girl  blushed,  and  almost  smiled. 

"  I  see,"  spoke  up  a  shaggy  man,  whose  age  was 
concealed  by  a  wild  and  unkempt  beard,  "  that  He  has 
given  thee  a  crippled  foot,  an  it  please  thee !  " 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

"  It  pleases  me  full  as  well  as  thy  impertinence,"  said 
the  stranger.  "  My  foot  is  but  bruised,  and  will  be  well 
in  a  week.  I  cannot  promise  so  much  for  thy  head,  an 
I  play  upon  it." 

The  great  uncouth  creature  threw  back  the  head  in 
question,  and  gave  vent  to  a  derisive  guffaw  which 
startled  the  crowd.  It  was  echoed  by  a  man  who  stood 
beside  him,- —  a  man  equally  wild  and  barbarous  in  as- 
pect. The  people  having  discovered  who  had  broken 
the  solemn  tension  of  the  hour  with  the  sound  of  mirth, 
faced  about,  some  in  stolid  silence,  some  with  a  shrug, 
while  a  few  muttered  :  "  The  Holland  Wolves  !  " 

"  Fair  maiden,"  said  the  stranger,  turning  again  to 
the  daughter  of  the  man  who  held  the  horse,  "  do  these 
animals  snarl  at  every  man  who  addresses  thee?  " 

"  They  are  my  friends,"  said  the  girl  gently. 

"  Ah,  damsel,  I  will  let  my  hair  grow  long  and  run 
riot  over  my  face,  and  clothe  me  in  a  jerkin  of  inexpli- 
cable mystery,  if  thou  wilt  promise  to  call  me  '  Friend ' 
in  so  sweet  a  voice  !  " 

"  In  truth,  Sir  Stranger,"  she  answered,  with  a  bright 
gleam  in  her  eyes,  "  't  is  not  the  growing  of  hair  that 
makes  a  friend." 

"  Now  by  St.  Bavon,"  spoke  up  the  wild  creature  who 
owned  the  threatened  head,  "  here  is  too  much  a-talking 
to  the  lady." 

"Ay,  by  St.  Bavon,"  echoed  the  other  "Wolf," 
"  man  to  man,  but  maid  to  maid  !  " 

"  Thou  art  a  swordless,  pikeless,  one-footed  beggar," 
continued  the  first  Wolf  with  sudden  fierceness,  "  so  I 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

will  not  fight  thee.  But  as  to  my  jerkin,  it  is  of  good 
curried  leather,  which  wears  for  twenty  years." 

"  Methinks,"  said  the  ragged  stranger,  "  that  it  hath 
already  been  nineteen  years  upon  thy  back." 

"  Let  me  entreat  thee,  Sir  Stranger,"  said  the  girl 
quickly,  "  not  to  make  my  friends  angry.  They  are  the 
Holland  Wolves.  Thou  hast  heard  of  them,  I  know. 
Do  not  throw  away  thy  life  for  the  pleasure  of  a  shrewd 
word.  And  Bilder,  I  pray  thee  and  Hans  think  nothing 
of  what  the  poor  wanderer  says." 

"  Do  not  pray  to  me,  Wilhelmina,"  said  the  first  of 
the  Wolves,  he  who  had  been  addressed  as  Bilder ;  "  I 
am  no  saint  that  I  should  be  prayed  to.  But  com- 
mand me ;  I  will  think  no  more  of  the  foreigner.  Let 
every  rag  to  his  back  cry  mercy  for  him." 

"  Ay,"  echoed  Hans,  "  he  lacks  one  foot  of  being  a 
man;  can  we  fight  with  a  shadow?  Command  us, 
Wilhelmina." 

"  I  pray  thee,  fair  Wilhelmina,"  cried  the  stranger,  "  I 
pray  thee,  for  sure  thou  art  a  saint,  if  ever  fair  face 
made  a  fair  spirit,  that  I  may  join  thy  little  troop  of 
foot-soldiers.  Command  me  also,  Wilhelmina." 

Wilhelmina's  brother,  a  young  man  of  medium  height 
but  of  capacious  girth  and  enormous  weight,  had  showed 
signs  for  some  time  of  getting  ready  to  speak.  He 
cleared  his  throat,  breathed  hard,  and  fastened  his  large 
eyes  upon  the  stranger's  face  with  increasing  steadiness, 
as  if  they  were  about  to  come  out  at  him.  At  last  his 
mouth  opened : 

"  Sir  Stranger,  will  it  please  thee  to  sit  in  our  cart  till 

12 


'  Do  not  throw  away  thy  life  for  the  pleasure  of  a  shrewd  word 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

the  army  pass?  For  I  perceive,  whilst  thou  makest  bold 
with  words,  thy  foot  is  to  thee  a  torment." 

"  There  was  never  such  a  brother  as  Jan,"  cried 
Wilhelmina,  trying  to  put  an  arm  about  the  young 
man,  but  unable  to  extend  her  hand  around  the  first 
turn.  "  He  thinks  of  everything.  Do  take  the  seat, 
sir;  it  will  ease  thy  pain,  and  therefore  give  us 
comfort." 

"  I  understand  well  it  will  ease  me,"  said  the  stranger, 
climbing  laboriously  up  into  the  seat,  "  but  how  it  may 
comfort  another,  I  know  not." 

"  It  were  easily  explained,"  said  the  father.  "  When- 
ever we  lift  at  another  man's  burden,  we  gain  more 
strength  to  carry  our  own." 

The  stranger  thought  over  these  words,  but  could 
make  nothing  of  them.  He  shook  his  head. 

"  That  is  not  thy  way  of  thinking,"  said  Bilder,  "  and 
neither  is  it  mine.  By  St.  Bavon,  thou  canst  not  think 
what  pain  it  gives  me  to  see  thee  sitting  in  Wilhelmina's 
place.  If  it  were  not  her  express  will  I  should  pluck 
thee  hence  speedily !  I  love  Wilhelmina,  fellow,  and 
cannot  endure  that  another  man  should  so  much  as  lift 
his  eyes  unto  her." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Hans,  shaking  his  shaggy  head.  "  I 
also  love  her  quite  to  the  death." 

"  Good  Bilder,  good  Hans  !  "  remonstrated  Wilhelmina 
soothingly,  "you  have  promised  —  " 

"  Ay,  we  shall  keep  our  promise,"  said  Bilder.  "  We 
ask  not  for  thy  love  till  a  full  year,  when  thou  shalt 
decide  between  us.  But  let  this  fellow  know  that  we 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

love  thee.  We  would  let  every  man  in  the  Netherlands 
know  the  same." 

"  Ay,"  said  Hans,  "  find  us  some  one  who  has  not 
heard  the  news,  and  we  will  inform  him  speedily." 

"  Here  is  devotion,"  said  the  stranger.  "  But  I  pray 
thee,  maiden,  tell  me  what  army  we  await?  " 

At  these  words  all  who  heard  him  stared  in  the 
utmost  wonder.  Jan  would  have  exclaimed,  but  did  not 
have  time  enough  to  get  his  voice  to  working. 

"What  army?"  repeated  Wilhelmina,  looking  up  into 
his  face  with  her  red  lips  parted  and  her  brown  eyes 
opened  wide;  "  and  where  hast  thou  been  not  to  have 
heard  of  this  day's  coming?" 

The  stranger,  looking  down  into  the  upturned  face, 
answered  slowly,  for  he  wanted  to  prolong  the  present 
moment.  She  stood  by  the  wheel  near  the  end  of  the 
cushioned  seat  which  supported  him.  She  was  as  tall  as 
her  brother,  and  her  height  helped  her  to  bear  more 
pounds  than  another  might  have  carried  gracefully. 
Her  limbs  were  modelled  in  broad  sweeping  curves,  her 
bust  was  full  and  generous,  her  hands  large  and  shapely, 
her  feet  moulded  not  only  for  beauty  but  for  endurance. 
Her  features  were  large,  and  her  head  was  set  upon  a 
sturdy  neck,  whose  dimpled  fairness  seemed  to  smile  at 
the  approach  of  Time.  From  her  body  there  emanated 
an  atmosphere  of  strength.  Her  face  was  neither  regu- 
lar in  outline  nor  striking  for  the  excellence  of  any 
feature ;  but  there  shone  upon  it  the  ruddy  glow  of  a 
contented  spirit,  which  has  no  prick  of  bodily  infirmity 
to  test  its  serenity.  The  unusually  broad  and  open  fore- 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

head,  the  heavy  coils  of  brown  hair,  which  needed  just 
such  a  head  to  bear  them  easily,  and  the  red  mouth, 
perhaps  too  large,  but  never  jealous  of  the  flashing 
teeth,  —  these  must  have  impressed  any  observer  favor- 
ably. As  for  her  massive  form,  her  great  strength, 
which  was  so  apparent  that  it  was  oppressive  to  weaker 
souls,  —  this  was  another  matter.  The  stranger  would 
have  reduced  her  at  least  a  third,  if  the  wave  of  his  hand 
had  carried  with  it  the  magic  of  his  imagination. 

"Where  have  I  been?  "  he  repeated.  "Come,  I 
will  give  thee  a  riddle,  fair  Wilhelmina,  and  thou  shalt 
guess.  I  have  been  where  women  and  children  never 
come.  I  have  been  buried  alive  for  two  years,  sur- 
rounded by  silence,  with  austerity  and  sorrow  for  my 
companions." 

"  I  know  what  the  fellow  means,"  cried  Bilder. 

"  Ay,  I  know,"  cried  Hans,  who  was  Bilder's  echo. 

"  Well,  Hans,"  said  Wilhelmina  mischievously,  "  come, 
tell  us  the  answer !  " 

"  Let  Bilder  tell,"  said  Hans  sheepishly,  shaking  his 
long  black  hair  about  his  eyes. 

"  A  monastery,"  said  Bilder. 

"  Ay,"  said  Hans,  "  that  is  what  I  thought." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  stranger,  "  I  have  spent  two  years  in 
a  monastery.  When  my  cell  became  intolerable,  I  fled 
as  for  my  life,  —  and  here  I  am.  Thou  art  the  first 
woman  I  have  met  who  could  take  my  heart  and  play 
upon  it.  I  know  if  there  is  any  music  in  my  soul,  thy 
touch  could  bring  it  forth  !  " 

At  these  words  Bilder  and  Hans  glared  savagely  out 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

of  their  red  eyes,  while  Jan  looked  at  his  father.     But 
Wilhelmina  only  laughed. 

"  How  many  tunes,  Sir  Stranger,  have  other  girls 
played  upon  thee?"  she  inquired. 

"  I  have  been  in  love,"  he  answered  lightly,  "  for  I 
am  a  man.  My  first  sweetheart  died  of  old  age  before 
I  got  to  be  twenty ;  the  second  married,  but  she  did  not 
marry  me ;  the  third  would  have  married  me  whether  I 
would  or  no,  so  I  hied  me  to  a  monastery,  thinking  I 
would  no  more  of  women.  I  soon  cooled  toward  a 
monastic  life  ;  but  it  took  me  two  years  to  escape.  Ah 
heaven  !  what  a  wretched  dulness  was  my  life  !  I  thought 
I  could  never  love  again.  But,  thank  God,  I  can  love ! 
I  feel  it  in  my  veins." 

At  this  point  Jan,  who  had  been  gradually  working 
up  to  the  effort,  spoke :  "  A  monastery,  yet  thou  art  no 
monk!  What  then?  A  Spaniard?" 

"  Heaven  forbid !  "  cried  the  young  man. 

"  Amen  !  "  exclaimed  the  little  group  as  by  a  precon- 
certed signal. 

The  young  man  stared  in  wonder.  "  Here  is  no  love 
for  Spain,"  he  said,  "  and  yet  the  king  of  Spain  is  your 
own  King  Philip.  But  I  am  a  Frenchman.  My  name  is 
Norman  Belle-Isle.  Gentlemen,"  he  added,  turning  his 
eyes  from  the  glowing  face  of  the  maiden,  "  whenever  it 
is  a  stand  against  Spain,  count  in  Norman  Belle-Isle." 

"  Caution,  young  man,  caution !  "  said  Wilhelmina's 
father  sharply.  "  For  God's  sake,  forbear !  " 

Bilder  threw  back  his  gigantic  head,  and  raised  his 
voice  in  stentorian  tones :  "  Long  live  the  Beggars  !  " 

16 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

Hans  took  up  the  shout  that  had  more  than  once 
caused  Philip  the  Second  to  tremble  in  far-away  Seville : 

"  Long  live  the  Beggars  !  " 

The  hum  of  voices  suddenly  ceased  as  the  multitude 
stretched  their  necks  to  see  who  had  dared  utter  that 
proscribed  party-cry.  It  was  not  taken  up  by  the 
populace,  although  it  echoed  in  their  hearts.  But  fear 
kept  them  silent.  Those  farthest  from  the  group  whis- 
pered a  question.  The  answer  came  to  them,  "The 
Holland  Wolves." 

"  They  are  bold  men,"  said  one,  "  but  their  time  is 
not  far !  " 

"The  Beggars?"  repeated  Norman.  "What  mean 
these  shaggy  Wolves?  By  Belle-Isle  !  if  Dutch  Beggars 
are  not  long-lived  they  are  different  from  the  beggars 
of  other  countries." 

"  Bilder  !  Hans  !  "  said  Wilhelmina's  father.  "  If  you 
care  not  for  your  own  lives,  will  you  involve  my  daughter 
in  your  ruin?  Remember  us,  and  forbear.  And  thou, 
Belle-Isle,  ask  no  questions  concerning  the  Beggars. 
There  is  death  in  the  very  name." 

"Then  tell  me,  fair  Wilhelmina,"  said  Norman,  "what 
army  we  are  awaiting  from  Tirlemont.  Methinks  I  hear 
a  distant  tramp  that  shakes  the  earth." 

"  Listen  !  "  said  Jan,  holding  up  his  enormous  arm. 

"  Ay,  they  are  coming,"  said  his  father. 

"  God  defend  us  !  "  whispered  Wilhelmina. 

"  Mother,"  piped  a  child's  treble  voice,  "  they  are 
coming,  they  are  coming !  Oh,  now  I  shall  see  the  fine 
horses !  " 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Better  thou  wert  dead  !  "  moaned  the  woman,  snatch- 
ing the  child  to  her  heart. 

Wilhelmina  grew  white,  while  Bilder  and  Hans,  with 
clenched  teeth,  glared  toward  the  closed  gates  of  Tirle- 
mont.  All  looked  thither  save  Norman  and  Wilhelmina. 

"  Tell  me  what  troubles  thee,"  he  said  gently. 

"Alas,  Sir  Stranger—" 

"  Nay,  call  me  not  stranger,"  he  protested  ;  "  it  closes 
the  gate  of  my  heart  through  which  kind  thoughts  seek 
to  run  out  to  greet  thee." 

"  But  thou  must  know,"  she  protested.  "  What  walls 
so  strong  that  they  can  keep  ill  news  at  bay?  " 

"  Nay,  by  Belle-Isle,  I  know  nothing  of  this  matter." 

"  How  strange,"  she  said,  "  to  hear  thee  swear  by 
thine  own  self!  " 

"  Ay,  lady,  but  I  know  myself,  so  I  know  I  swear  by 
a  true  knight." 

"  The  saints  also  are  true,  Belle-Isle." 

"  That  may  be,  Wilhelmina.  But  I  have  found  that 
whenever  I  am  in  a  narrow  pass,  it  is  Belle-Isle  and  not 
any  saint  who  plucks  me  out  of  danger.  Hark  !  The 
deep  rumble  !  Why  dost  thou  cower  and  pale?  " 

"  Alas,  alas  !  they  will  soon  be  here, —  the  Spaniards, 
—  the  cruel, —  hush!  Yes,  the  army  from  Spain  is 
coming.  You  have  heard  of  the  terrible  Duke  of  Alva. 
He  is  at  their  head." 

"Alva?  A  famous  captain,  an  iron  man,  indeed! 
Why  come  he  and  his  army  into  the  Low  Countries?" 

"  To  enforce  the  Inquisition.  Yes,  Spain  has  sent  the 
Inquisition  into  Holland.  These  Spaniards  will  be 

18 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

quartered  upon  us.  We  shall  be  at  their  mercy,  Belle- 
Isle  !  See  how  rny  countrymen  shrink  with  terror  !  Yet 
they  are  Catholics,  even  as  I.  That  will  not  save  us !  " 

"  Why  not,  fair  Wilhelmina?  But  I  pray  thee  take 
thy  place  beside  me,  for  I  grieve  to  see  thee  stand  so 
long." 

Wilhelmina  smiled.  "  I  am  strong,  oh,  so  very 
strong !  "  she  said,  showing  him  her  bared  arm.  "  I 
never  grow  tired.  I  work  all  day  long,  and  how  I 
sleep  !  " 

"  I  would  I  could  see  thee  asleep !  "  he  exclaimed. 
Wilhelmina  showed  her  teeth.     "Father  used  to  say 
I  am  prettiest  when  I  am  asleep,"  she  observed. 

"  But,"  said  Norman,  "  I  should  certainly  wake  thee 
up  to  have  a  glimpse  of  those  brown  eyes." 

The  brown  eyes  laughed  at  him,  then  grew  sad. 
"Yes,  it  will  not  save  us,  that  we  are  Catholics.  We  of 
the  Netherlands  are  a  liberty-loving  people;  we  would 
not  burn  heretics  or  bury  them  alive.  So  we  raised  a 
party  among  us  to  resist  the  Spanish  Inquisition.  Mar- 
garet, Duchess  of  Parma  —  she  is  our  Regent  —  looked 
from  her  window  and  saw  our  brave  men  marching 
down  the  street.  In  truth  they  did  not  make  a  brave 
show,  for  all  who  were  mighty  and  rich  were  afraid  to 
oppose  King  Philip.  And  what  tyrants  are  power  and 
wealth !  He  who  owns  them  is  owned  by  them.  Well, 
the  Duchess  looked  down,  and  her  gentlemen  laughed 
at  the  ragged  patriots, —  God  bless  them! — and  they 
said,  '  Look  at  the  Beggars !  '  The  men  overheard 
that  word.  It  was  spoken  in  disdain,  but  they  received 

19 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

it  as  their  true  name,  and  since  then,  how  many  times  I 
have  heard  that  cry,  '  Vivent  les  Gneux! '  But  now  we 
hear  it  no  more ;  for  the  King  sends  his  army  to  over- 
awe us,  and  the  Duke  of  Alva,  who  will  rule  in  the  place 
of  the  Duchess,  hates  the  very  echo  of  our  country's 
name.  So,  though  we  are  all  Catholics,  we  are  under 
his  wrath." 

"What!  is  everybody  a  Catholic  in  the  Low  Coun- 
tries?" 

"  Ay,  everybody  save  the  martyrs.  And  now  that 
our  most  powerful  friend,  the  best  friend  we  simple 
people  ever  had,  has  been  compelled  to  flee  for  his 
life, —  I  mean  William  the  Silent — " 

"The  Prince  of  Orange?" 

"  Ay,  the  saints  bless  his  pure  soul !  —  we  have 
only  one  friend  left, —  yonder  he  comes  to  meet  the 
Spaniards." 

From  the  direction  of  Brussels  advanced  a  noble 
cavalcade,  headed  by  Count  Egmont.  Scarcely  had 
his  company  appeared  in  the  distance  when  the  gates 
of  Tirlemont  were  thrown  open,  and  the  vanguard  of 
the  Spanish  army  issued  forth. 

"  That  is  Count  Egmont,"  said  Wilhelmina,  indicating 
the  leader  of  the  horsemen  from  Brussels.  "  My  father 
is  his  retainer.  See  how  tall  he  is,  how  delicate  his 
features,  how  beautiful  his  flowing  hair !  Poor  gentle- 
man, God  pity  him!" 

"  And  why  ?  "  asked  Norman.  "  Does  he  not  come  to 
meet  Alva?  How  gorgeous  his  apparel!  Here  is  no 
room  for  pity." 

20 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

"  Thou  foolish  knight !  "  said  Wilhelmina.  "  Many 
a  sorrow  goes  through  the  world  with  a  smile.  The 
life  of  our  dear  Count  hangs  upon  the  breath  of  Alva. 
We  who  are  not  blind  know  what  will  be  the  issue.  But 
Count  Egmont  would  not  flee  with  Prince  William.  He 
knows  he  has  always  been  faithful  to  the  King,  and  the 
King  has  written  him  many  letters  of  love  and  esteem. 
He  will  not  be  warned.  Even  when  the  King  bade  him 
turn  against  his  own  people  and  slay  them,  Count 
Egmont  did  not  withhold  his  sword.  Whatever  the 
King  wills,  Egmont  does.  But  we  love  him,  —  and  that 
will  ruin  any  man ;  for  the  breath  of  popular  applause 
blows  into  flame  the  hatred  of  a  tyrant." 

"  These  are  bold  words,  fair  Wilhelmina !  " 

"  I  fear  thee  not,  Belle-Isle.  In  such  times  as  these, 
one  learns  to  read  a  face  without  halting  to  spell." 

"  Then  tell  me  what  thou  readest  in  my  eyes,"  said 
Norman  softly. 

"  I  read,"  said  Wilhelmina,  "  that  thou  wouldst  never 
bring  sorrow  to  a  maiden, —  so  long  as  she  be  discreet." 

"  I  would,"  he  said  fervently,  "  that  a  Spanish  army 
might  come  to  the  Low  Countries  every  day,  if  by  its 
coming  it  gave  me  a  sweet  hour  with  thee !  After 
that  dry  life  in  the  monastery,  I  am  like  a  parched 
wanderer  of  the  desert  come  to  a  bubbling  spring. 
I  drink  from  thy  brown  eyes,  and  I  feel  a  greenness 
springing  up  all  along  my  wasted  and  desolate  courses. 
Life  surges  in  upon  me  once  more,  and  I  smell  the  salt 
air  of  love  that  blows  from  over  its  boundless  surface." 

"Thou  dost  gaze  upon  me  as  if  I  were  a  star,"  said 

21 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Wilhelmina,  showing  her  teeth.  "  Nay,  Belle-Isle,  I  am 
only  a  simple  maid,  one  of  the  lowly.  I  do  not  belong 
to  thy  class,  I  think.  See  how  large  I  am,  —  look  at 
these  hands,  they  are  made  for  toil.  And  these  feet  in 
their  great  wooden  shoes,  —  what  would  a  lady  do  with 
them?  They  were  never  formed  to  rest  in  carriages, 
but  to  tramp  the  roads,  and  bear  heavy  burdens.  I  am 
so  big ;  do  you  not  observe  it  ?  Look  at  Jan.  I  am 
like  him,  only  I  am  a  woman, —  God  bless  him,  he 
is  my  brother !  —  the  sweetest  boy  of  all  Holland ! 
And  I  can  eat  three  meals  a  day  and  be  hungry  between 
them.  There  is  nothing  dainty  nor  noble  about  me,  un- 
less, I  pray  God,  my  heart.  But  hush  !  They  will  meet 
here." 

Count  Egmont  had  timed  his  approach  that  he  might 
encounter  the  Duke  of  Alva  where  his  retainers  were 
collected.  The  Spanish  army  halted.  At  its  head  rode 
the  "  Iron  Duke,"  surrounded  by  his  most  powerful 
followers.  Alva  was  tall  and  thin,  with  the  erect  carriage 
of  one  who  has  led  many  armies  to  victory.  His  cheeks 
were  yellow,  his  eyes  small,  dark,  and  glittering,  his 
white  beard  fell  upon  his  breast  in  two  waving  divisions. 
His  features  were  stern  almost  to  ferocity.  He  had 
come  in  his  old  age,  full  of  honors,  to  crush  from  the 
Netherlands  the  few  sparks  of  patriotism  and  liberty 
that  still  remained.  He  had  come  with  that  bitter 
hatred  toward  the  natives  which  one  feels  only  against 
the  victim  his  hand  is  about  to  destroy.  He  felt  the 
helplessness  of  his  prey,  but  this  powerlessness  aroused 
him  to  malignant  cruelty,  as  if  he  despised  the  devoted 

22 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

people  who  had  not  the  spirit  to  utter  a  cry  against  his 
mailed  hand.  He  had  not  the  excuse  of  fanaticism  for 
his  rapacious  career.  His  only  religion  was  his  fidelity 
to  Philip  the  Second.  It  was  the  will  of  the  King  that 
the  Dutch  should  be  scourged  for  their  past  dream  of 
liberty,  lashed  to  complete  abjectness;  and  Alva  had 
come  to  please  his  sovereign.  The  Spaniards  and  mer- 
cenaries who  came  in  his  train  shared  his  hatred  and 
contempt  for  the  people.  They  stared  insolently  at  the 
throng  which  had  assembled  to  give  them  the  semblance 
of  a  welcome.  They  were  impatient  for  the  time  when 
they  might  be  turned  loose  upon  the  homes  of  these 
trembling  wretches;  when  permission  might  be  given 
them  to  slay,  ravage,  and  plunder.  The  mercenaries  had 
no  hope  of  reward  for  their  labors  and  privations,  save 
such  reward  as  they  might  wrest  as  booty  from  the 
Dutch;  but  the  Spaniards  had  another  spur  to  their 
devotion.  They  would  demand  a  booty  full  as  rich; 
but  they  would  also  have  the  pleasure  of  slaying  danger- 
ous enemies  to  the  Church. 

As  Norman  Belle-Isle  gazed  upon  the  concourse  with 
the  zest  of  one  watching  a  magnificent  pageant,  his 
attention  was  claimed  by  two  horsemen  who  rode  on  the 
left  of  the  Duke  of  Alva,  one  an  old  man,  the  other  his 
young  esquire.  The  old  man,  like  all  the  Spanish 
nobles,  wore  a  suit  of  gilded  armor  that  caused  the  eyes 
to  burn.  His  face  was  dark  and  stern,  and  the  gaze  he 
disdainfully  cast  upon  those  who  lined  the  road  was  full 
of  cold  hatred.  But  it  was  the  young  esquire  who  in- 
stantly claimed  Belle-Isle's  attention,  —  a  slender  youth, 

23 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

scarcely  of  medium  height,  whose  form,  delicate  and 
exquisite  in  its  proportions,  was  ill  suited  to  the  war- 
like garb.  The  face  was  extremely  engaging,  and  while 
no  kindliness  beamed  upon  its  features,  they  were  of 
so  noble  a  cast  that  scorn  added  a  striking  but  haughty 
beauty.  The  eyes  were  of  a  pure  French  type,  black, 
sparkling,  and  liquid.  The  lips  were  thin  and  mobile, 
and  they  assumed  a  little  pout  of  contemptuous  arro- 
gance. 

Wilhelmina,  feeling  that  a  crisis  in  the  lives  of  those 
she  loved  was  at  hand,  unconsciously  deserted  Belle-Isle, 
and  slipped  between  her  father  and  brother,  laying  a 
hand  upon  the  arm  of  each.  She,  also,  was  struck  by 
the  esquire's  form  and  face.  "Jan,"  she  whispered, 
"  see  the  Spanish  boy  who  carries  the  old  man's  weapon. 
What  weapon  is  it,  Jan?  " 

The  other  stared  at  the  esquire  with  all  his  might, 
his  mouth  slowly  opening  in  the  meantime.  Count 
Egmont  who  was  near  at  hand,  sent  forward  his  esquire 
to  announce  his  name  to  the  Duke. 

"The  Count  of  Egmont?"  repeated  Alva.  He 
turned  to  the  old  man  whose  weapon  was  carried  by 
the  beautiful  youth.  "  Gonzalvo,"  he  said  in  a  loud 
voice,  "  behold  the  greatest  of  all  heretics  !  "  He  spoke 
for  Egmont  to  hear,  but  the  Count  made  no  sign.  He 
had  deliberately  chosen  between  flight  with  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  and  the  gratitude  of  his  King.  The  hatred 
of  Alva  was  apparent  to  all.  But  the  Count  hoped  to 
remove  it  by  intimate  intercourse. 

Egmont  now  rode  forward,  and  these  two  saluted,  — 

24 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

the  Netherlander  with  the  proud  confidence  of  an  inno- 
cent and  too  sanguine  man,  Alva  with  the  insolence  he 
was  at  the  moment  unable  to  disguise. 

"  The  Duke  of  Alva  is  welcome,"  said  Egmont,  "  and 
the  provinces  send  him  greeting." 

"  The  Count  of  Egmont,"  returned  the  Spaniard, 
"  might  have  spared  me  the  trouble  of  making  this  long 
journey  in  my  old  age." 

Egmont  pretended  not  to  understand  the  dangerous 
meaning  hidden  under  these  words. 

But  soon  the  Duke  bethought  him  of  the  King's 
directions ;  how  Egmont  was  first  to  be  lulled  to  a 
sense  of  security,  then  destroyed.  By  an  effort  he 
smothered  his  real  feelings,  spoke  more  gently,  and  put 
his  arm  about  Egmont's  neck.  They  rode  toward 
Brussels  side  by  side  in  friendly  conversation. 

Bilder  turned  to  the  father  of  Wilhelmina.  "  Now, 
Hendrik,"  he  said,  his  red  eyes  glaring  with  passion, 
"  shall  we  raise  a  shout  for  the  Count?  " 

"  Not  at  thy  peril !  "  cried  Hendrik.  "  It  would 
infuriate  the  Duke  and  his  soldiers." 

Bilder  threw  his  arms  about  Hans,  and  whispered  in 
his  ear  in  a  gurgling  voice,  as  if  about  to  choke  :  "  Long 
live  the  Beggars  !  " 

The  Spaniard  who  had  been  addressed  by  the  Duke  as 
Gonzalvo,  and  who  had  fallen  behind  Alva  and  Egmont, 
passed  with  a  scowl  at  the  Holland  Wolves.  He  had 
seen  the  fury  in  their  faces,  and  half  guessed  their  words. 
Behind  him  came  the  beautiful  esquire,  who  looked 
carelessly  at  the  wild  unkempt  creatures,  then  discovered 

25 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Belle-Isle,  whose  seat  in  Hendrik's  cart  brought  him 
above  the  heads  of  the  people.  The  young  Spaniard 
scanned  the  Frenchman  curiously,  and  suddenly  raised 
a  finger  as  in  warning,  while  the  habitual  look  of  haughty 
scorn  softened.  There  was  then  no  doubt  that,  striking 
as  that  face  was  in  its  imperiousness,  its  charm  was  ten- 
fold greater  in  its  gentleness.  No  one  in  the  throng 
knew  toward  whom  the  eyes  of  the  esquire  were  directed, 
save  the  young  man  who  bore  their  fire.  Belle-Isle  rose 
in  the  cart,  and  pointed  solemnly  above  his  head.  The 
Spaniard  quickly  made  the  sign  of  the  cross.  Instantly 
those  who  lined  the  road  imitated  the  gesture,  their  arms 
moving  almost  in  unison.  The  procession  had  now  car- 
ried Gonzalvo  and  his  companion  beyond  the  spot,  but 
the  young  horseman  looked  back  at  the  Frenchman. 
Belle-Isle  stood  still  pointing  solemnly  upward.  He  did 
not  make  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

Gonzalvo  and  his  esquire  were  hidden  from  sight  by 
the  infantry  and  light  horse.  The  clank  of  arms  and 
the  tramp  of  hoofs  made  the  air  tremble.  The  golden 
armor  glowed  like  lamps  of  fire  in  the  ranks.  Jan  turned 
to  Wilhelmina,  and  answered  the  question  she  had  asked 
him  some  time  ago :  "  I  know  not,  sister." 

"Perchance  the  stranger  knows,"  said  Wilhelmina. 
"  He  knows  a  many  thing  that  is  hidden  to  us  simple  folk." 
She  came  to  the  cart.  Norman  saw  her  coming,  and  it 
suddenly  struck  him  with  force  that  there  was  too  much 
of  her.  He  secretly  chided  nature  for  being  so  gen- 
erous. The  face  and  form  of  the  Spaniard  still  clung 
to  his  eyes. 

26 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

"  Belle-Isle,  canst  tell  us  what  weapon  every  esquire 
carries?  " 

"  Ay,  they  are  muskets,  Wilhelmina,  a  new  weapon, 
and  deadly.  But  didst  observe  the  Spanish  esquire  who 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross?" 

"  Ay,  indeed.  What  a  womanly  man  !  "  cried  Wil- 
helmina, showing  her  teeth.  "  His  arms  and  legs  remind 
me  of  my  play-days  when  I  would  make  a  body  of  clay 
and  stick  four  straws  at  the  corners  for  limbs." 

"  Why,  it  may  be  that  there  was  not  enough  to  his 
legs  and  arms,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  but  it  was  not  of  such 
matters  I  thought.  It  was  of  his  face.  By  Belle-Isle  ! 
what  beauty,  what  exquisite  grace !  " 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Wilhelmina,  "  but  I  think  Bilder 
or  Hans  is  more  of  a  man." 

"  Bilder !  Hans  !  Oh,  Wilhelmina,  mention  not  such 
hairy  savages  in  the  same  breath !  I  hope  thou  wilt 
never  take  one  of  these  wild  creatures  into  thy  favor !  " 

"  When  I  marry,"  said  Wilhelmina,  "  it  will  be  a  man 
strong  enough  to  carry  me  out  of  danger.  Dost  think 
that  Spaniard  could  so  much  as  lift  me  from  the  ground  ? 
I  would  crush  his  puny  body  with  my  weight !  It  is  all 
very  well,  Belle-Isle,  to  laugh  at  the  Wolves  because  they 
are  uncouth.  But  I  prefer  a  man  whose  beauty  is 
centred  in  his  heart  and  not  spread  out  all  over  his 
person." 

"  Wilhelmina,  I  shudder  to  hear  you  talk  in  this 
wise.  Such  things  as  legs  and  arms  and  people's 
bodies,  —  are  they  to  be  discussed  as  topics  of  the 
day?  There  is  a  certain  robustious  greatness  in  thy 

27 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

talk,  Wilhelmina,  a  bold  and  fresh  seizing  upon  sub- 
jects that  makes  me  tremble.  I  know  not  what  thou 
wilt  come  upon  at  thy  next  turning,  and  I  sit  appre- 
hensive." 

"  I  weary  thee  with  my  idle  words.  But  I  have 
told  thee  I  am  no  gentle.  I  say  what  I  think,  —  so 
that  I  offend  no  one,  —  and  if  I  do  not  displease  God, 
thou  must  make  shift  to  bear  it.  But  look !  Ah, 
what  is  this?  What  curious  warriors  !  They  be  women 
as  I  live !  See,  they  ride  from  Tirlemont,  they  follow 
companies  of  light  horse.  St.  Bavon !  Now,  what 
make  they  in  the  Spanish  army?" 

"  This  is  a  wonderful  thing !  "  said  Norman,  staring. 

"  Spanish  women  !  "  continued  Wilhelmina.  "  Look 
how  many !  They  are  not  ladies,  I  warrant."  After 
a  long  silence  she  spoke :  "  I  have  counted  one  thou- 
sand, and  still  they  pour  from  Tirlemont.  Now  I  know 
what  those  wretches  be  !  " 

Belle-Isle  groaned.  "  I  beseech  thee,  Wilhelmina, 
say  no  more  on  the  matter." 

"  They  be  brazen  creatures !  "  cried  Wilhelmina,  her 
eyes  flashing  fire.  "  This  is  how  the  Duke  of  Alva 
comes  with  his  Catholic  army  to  enforce  the  true  religion 
upon  us  who  are  already  Catholics !  My  God,  to  what 
has  my  country  fallen !  "  She  began  to  weep. 

Her  hand  grasped  the  end  of  the  seat.  Belle-Isle  laid 
his  hand  upon  hers  and  caressed  it  gently.  "  There, 
there,  Wilhelmina,  I  cannot  endure  to  see  thee  weep,  so 
fair,  so  strong !  Do  not  despair ;  God  will  never  forsake 
a  land  where  freedom  cries  for  a  voice." 

28 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

She  turned  her  hand  up,  and  clasped  his.  "  Thou 
art  a  good  young  man,"  she  said,  pressing  his  hand 
warmly. 

"  Then  look  up,  Wilhelmina,  and  let  the  sun  shine  in 
thine  eyes  after  the  rain.  What  a  sight  thou  art  missing  ! 
Still  they  come  !  " 

There  were,  indeed,  two  thousand  of  this  division  of 
Alva's  army. 

"  I  will  not  look  at  them,"  said  Wilhelmina.  "They 
be  shameless  and  besotted  devils.  I  will  not  look  into 
their  low  faces  !  " 

"  There  be  some  of  them  passing  fair,"  observed  Belle- 
Isle.  Wilhelmina  tore  away  her  hand,  and  ran  back  to 
her  father.  But  Hendrik  had  seen  all  he  could  endure. 
"  Let  us  return  home,"  he  said. 

"  Sir,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  I  thank  thee  for  thy  kind- 
ness. When  my  foot  is  well,  it  will  run  to  do  thee  a 
service." 

"Whither  art  thou  bound?  "  asked  Hendrik. 

"  I  have  no  home,"  said  Norman.  "  I  am  running 
away  from  a  German  monastery,  but  whither  I  run  is  no 
matter  to  me." 

"How  wilt  find  shelter?"  asked  Hendrik.  "These 
soldiers  will  now  drain  the  substance  of  the  willing  and 
the  unwilling.  Who  can  live  without  a  sword  in  his 
hand?" 

"  Indeed,  Hendrik,  I  have  nothing  in  the  world." 

"  Jan,"  said  his  father,  "  let  us  take  him  to  our  home, 
until  his  foot  is  healed." 

"  Not  so,"  spoke  up  Bilder.  "  Shall  we  house  this 

29 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

beggar  with  Wilhelmina?     Who  can  tell  what  he  is,  or 
how  her  fancy  may  play  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Hans,  "  he  and  Wilhelmina  have  seen 
more  of  each  other  now  than  the  country  has  seen  of 
her  King." 

"  Let  him  go  his  way,"  said  Bilder,  "  and  let  his  way 
lead  from  thy  door,  Hendrik  Janssen." 

"  Ay,"  said  Hans,  "  and  from  Wilhelmina's  window !  " 

"  By  Belle-Isle  !  "  said  the  owner  of  that  name,  "  this 
is  embarrassing,  good  people.  I  pray  thee,  Jan,  speak 
up  and  decide  the  point,  and  if  I  must  say  farewell,  I 
will  also  give  you  God's  blessing." 

Jan,  who  had  been  meditating  upon  the  point  with 
ponderous  solemnity,  now  spoke.  "  Since  Wilhelmina 
is  the  objection,  let  us  leave  it  to  her." 

"  No,  no,  no !  "  cried  Bilder.  "  We  know  what  she 
will  say ! " 

"  Jan,  I  leave  it  to  thee,"  said  his  father. 

"  Father,  this  is  too  sudden.  I  cannot  weigh  the 
reasons  for  and  against  his  coming  to  our  house.  I  dare 
not  say  '  No,'  for  fear  I  might  do  him  an  injustice.  And 
I  dread  to  say  '  Yes,'  —  I  know  not  why." 

"Then  he  shall  come  with  us,"  said  Hendrik.  "I 
decide  for  the  sake  of  his  wounded  foot." 

"  I  warn  thee,  Hendrik !  "  cried  Bilder. 

"  Yes,  we  warn  thee  !  "  echoed  Hans. 

"  If  it  had  been  left  to  me,"  said  Wilhelmina,  in  a  voice 
that  sounded  almost  sullen,  "  I  would  have  said,  as 
Bilder  said,  '  No,  no,  no  ! '" 

"  Then  let  us  leave  it  to  her !  "  cried  Bilder. 

30 


COMING    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

"It  is  decided,"  said  Hendrik.  " Wilhelmina,  thou 
and  I  shall  ride  in  the  seat,  and  let  the  Frenchman  rest 
as  he  may  in  the  body  of  the  cart.  Jan,  thou  and 
Bilder  and  Hans  shall  come  speedily  after  us,  and  so, 
forward  to  Brussels  !  " 

"  I  would  I  had  said,  '  No, ' "  observed  Jan,  thought- 
fully. 


1 


Chapter    Two 

A   MAIDEN  OF  HOLLAND 

Spanish  army  had  been  divided ;  only 
three  companies  of  light  horse  followed 
the  infantry  that  marched  behind  the  Duke 
of  Alva  toward  Brussels.  After  them  came 
the  women  whose  beauty  had  so  offended  Wilhelmina. 
The  women  were  followed  by  wagons  and  camp  fol- 
lowers, bearing  tents  and  camp  furniture.  When  these 
had  passed,  the  natives  who  had  lined  the  road  sullenly 
dispersed.  Hendrik  drove,  and  Wilhelmina  sat  beside 
him.  Both  were  immersed  in  sombre  thought,  and  the 
French  guest  did  not  disturb  them.  Looking  back, 
he  saw  Jan  and  the  Holland  Wolves  following  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  the  dust  rolling  under  their  pon- 
derous tread.  Bilder,  seeing  he  was  observed,  raised 
his  arm,  and  shook  his  fist  at  Belle-Isle.  Hans  imitated 
his  gesture.  The  Frenchman  waved  his  hand  in  graceful 
salute,  then  forgot  their  existence. 

At  last  they  passed  the  spot  where  the  soldiers  were 
preparing  to  encamp,  outside  the  walls  of  Brussels. 
Soon  after,  Hendrik  Janssen  drove  under  the  Louvain 
gate,  through  which  Alva  and  Egmont  had  passed. 
The  capital  of  the  province  of  Brabant,  now  the  capital 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

of  all  the  Netherlands,  was  at  this  time  about  five  hun- 
dred years  old.  It  contained  one  hundred  thousand 
souls.  Built  upon  the  side  of  a  sweeping  promontory,  its 
roads  were  far  apart  near  the  city  walls,  but  as  they  ran 
up  the  slope  they  drew  close  together,  while  at  regular 
intervals  they  were  cut  by  parallel  roads  running  around 
the  ascent.  Belle-Isle  found  many  magnificent  buildings, 
and  more  than  one  lofty  tower,  such  as  that  of  the  town- 
house,  which  lifted  its  gorgeously  embroidered  form 
three  hundred  and  sixty  feet  in  the  air.  But  the  ducal 
palace  with  its  trim  lawns  and  softened  woods  seemed 
lifted  like  a  picture  hung  against  the  curtain  of  the  sky, 
for  the  delight  of  men. 

Belle-Isle  drew  in  his  breath  in  a  rapture  that  could 
find  no  words  sufficiently  delicate  for  its  expression. 
But  Hendrik  and  his  daughter,  too  used  to  these  sights 
to  feel  surprise,  and  too  disheartened  by  the  coming  of 
the  Spaniards  to  find  pleasure  in  the  rich  homes  of  other 
people,  uttered  no  word.  The  horse  was  turned  aside, 
and  directed  toward  that  low,  damp  part  of  the  city  which 
adjoins  the  Senne.  They  entered  a  dark,  narrow  street 
with  a  gutter  down  its  middle  after  the  approved  fashion, 
on  either  side  of  which  were  tall  houses  with  curious 
gables  and  elbowing  porches.  Hendrik  Janssen  stopped 
before  a  house  which  looked  upon  a  sluggish  blackened 
canal,  whose  mouth,  the  Senne,  was  two  blocks  away. 
Wilhelmina  sprang  to  the  ground  with  a  lightness  her 
mature  form  did  not  promise. 

"  This   is   my   home,"    said    Hendrik   to  Belle-Isle. 
"  Thou   art  welcome.     Wilhelmina  will  show  thee  the 
3  33 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

way.  I  must  take  this  horse  home ;  it  belongs  to  Count 
Egmont.  He  was  kind  enough  to  lend  it  that  my 
daughter  might  see  the  army.  He  is  very  good,  —  God 
have  mercy  upon  him  !  " 

"  But  why,"  Belle-Isle  answered,  slowly  climbing  down 
to  the  slippery  cobblestones  that  sloped  toward  the  gut- 
ter, "  why  didst  thou  not  warn  this  noble  gentleman  of 
his  danger?" 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Hendrik  quickly.  "  Remember  we 
are  in  the  city."  As  he  turned  the  horse  about  he 
added,  "  But  it  is  no  use.  He  will  not  believe  us." 
Belle-Isle  was  left  standing  near  Wilhelmina  Janssen. 

"  This  way,"  said  the  girl,  turning  her  back  upon 
the  young  man  and  approaching  the  house  with  droop- 
ing head.  She  unlocked  the  door  and  they  entered  a 
large  apartment,  the  young  man  leaning  heavily  upon 
his  stick.  The  room  was  so  clean  that  its  tiled  floor 
glistened.  The  walls  were  of  white  stone,  and  the  win- 
dows, each  containing  many  small  lozenge-shaped  panes 
fastened  together  with  lead,  were  divided  by  pillars  of 
stone,  which  were  themselves  divided  by  stone  cross- 
pieces.  Just  within  the  door  was  the  receptacle  for  holy 
water,  and  the  hand-besom.  At  the  farther  end  was  a 
huge  fireplace,  and  on  either  side,  and  above  the  black 
opening,  hung  shining  vessels  and  utensils  of  curious 
shapes.  But  however  curious  they  might  be  to  an  un- 
used eye,  there  was  a  heavy  intelligible  smile  in  each 
glittering  surface.  Wilhelmina  stepped  to  the  holy 
water,  dipped  in  a  long  shapely  finger,  and  crossed  her- 
self. Then  she  walked  toward  the  fireplace. 

34 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

"  Be  seated,"  she  said,  coldly. 

"  No,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  Heaven  forbid  that  I  ever  sit 
down  where  I  am  unwelcome !  And  so,  fare  thee  well, 
Wilhelmina;  tell  thy  father  I  left  him  my  benison." 
Whereupon  he  turned  about  and  stalked  from  the  house 
with  as  much  dignity  as  his  bandaged  foot  and  ragged 
back  would  allow.  He  had  scarcely  slammed  the  door 
behind  him  when  it  was  opened  by  the  firm  hand  of 
Wilhelmina. 

"  Now  where  wilt  thou  go,  sir?  "  she  demanded  sternly. 
"  And  where  wilt  thou  find  food?  Come  back  into  the 
house,  sir,  for  thou  art  welcome." 

"  What  care  I  for  food?  "  cried  Belle-Isle.  "  It  is  kind- 
ness for  which  I  hunger,  not  meat  and  drink.  How  say- 
est  thou  I  am  welcome  when  never  a  look  or  word  wilt 
thou  throw  me  ?  Nay,  I  will  hence  !  " 

"  And  perchance  wilt  go  unto  those  fair  damsels  whose 
beauty  caused  thee  to  forget  my  tears,"  she  said  bitterly. 

"  Ay,  and  perchance  I  shall,"  he  cried  fiercely.  At 
that  Wilhelmina  darted  out  of  the  door  and  seizing  him 
by  the  arm,  got  him  into  the  house  with  such  vigor  that 
his  stick  was  sent  flying  into  the  canal.  "  Rest !  "  she 
said,  pushing  him  into  a  chair. 

"  By  Belle-Isle !  "  he  cried,  the  tears  starting  to  his 
eyes,  "  I  am  as  weak  as  a  kitten  in  thy  fist.  The  monas- 
tery-life hath  wasted  me  to  an  infant,  and  my  foot  hath 
turned  an  accursed  traitor  to  my  cause." 

"  I  have  much  muscle,"  said  Wilhelmina  grimly. 

"  Ay,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  I  believe  thee.  And  it  is  lit- 
tle to  thy  credit,  seeing  thou  art  a  woman  and  canst  not 

35 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

go  up  and  down  the  world  with  a  sword  in  thy  hand,  but 
must  needs  vent  thy  unmaidenly  strength  in  racking  my 
poor  foot." 

"  Thy  foot?     Now  what  words  are  these?  " 

"  They  are  true  words ;  take  them  and  digest  them. 
For  in  dragging  me  about  like  an  old  doll,  didst  not 
beat  my  crippled  foot  most  despitefully  against  the 
threshold  ?  " 

"  Now  the  saints  forbid  !  "  cried  Wilhelmina,  sinking 
upon  her  knees  before  him.  "  Poor  foot,  I  must  make 
what  amends  I  may !  " 

"What  thing  is  this?"  cried  Belle-Isle  nervously. 
"  Take  thy  hands  away,  maiden." 

"Why,  what  is  this  ado?"  returned  the  maiden  im- 
patiently. "Hold  still, — the  saints  pity  thee  !  I  will 
have  off  this  begrimed  bandage.  Oh,  that  such  un- 
seemly rags  should  ever  enter  my  clean  house !  " 

"  I  will  not  have  thee  touching  my  foot !  "  cried  Belle- 
Isle  with  spirit.  "  Thou,  a  tender  maiden  —  such  things 
are  not  for  thy  pretty  hands.  Leave  me  alone,  Wilhel- 
mina, do  not  humble  thyself  in  such  mean  fashion.  But 
if  the  foot  must  be  attended,  call  in  some  old  woman,  or 
better  still,  some  man  with  a  man's  feet  at  the  end  of 
him." 

Wilhelmina  arose  and  departed  as  if  to  obey  his  wish. 
But  the  next  moment  she  returned  with  a  basin  of  water. 
Down  she  sank  upon  her  knees,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

"  I  am  the  old  woman  who  will  attend  to  this  case," 
she  said  calmly.  "  Thou  talkest  as  if  a  man  were  some 
mystery,  and  his  feet  were  gods,  not  to  be  looked  upon. 

36 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

A  man's  foot  is  naught  to  me  but  a  member  set  with 
toes.  I  pray  thee,  sir,  be  not  so  particular.  Thou  canst 
not  have  thy  foot  touched  by  a  maiden ;  but  thou  canst 
gloat  upon  the  beauty  of  brazen  Spanish  wretches  with 
shameless  flouting  airs." 

"  Wilhelmina,  think  not  so  of  me.  Do  I  not  despise 
them  from  my  soul?  " 

"  Thou  saidst  they  be  fair,"  she  pouted. 

"  I  jested.     They  be  painted  Jezebels  !  "  he  cried. 

"  And  thou  hadst  no  pleasure  in  the  gazing?  " 

"  By  my  soul,  my  heart  grew  sick  as  they  passed  by 
in  their  cloud  of  musk." 

"  I  am  glad,  Belle-Isle,  —  for  thy  sake.  Thou  art  a 
pure  young  man.  Now  dost  thou  not  feel  better  with 
clean  feet  and  this  fresh  cloth  around  the  cruel  bruise?  " 

"  I  am  much  ashamed,"  said  Belle-Isle,  blushing. 

Wilhelmina  arose  and  patted  his  shoulder  with  great 
good  humor.  "  There,  there,  Belle-Isle,  —  the  Lord  love 
thee  !  —  be  not  ashamed  !  I  will  not  drag  thee  about 
any  more.  Now  I  must  build  us  a  great  fire  and  begin 
our  dinner,  for  the  Wolves  are  always  hungry,  and  so, 
also,  is  Jan.  He  is  not  fat  for  nothing,  I  promise  thee  !  " 
She  carried  away  the  basin,  and  when  she  returned  to  the 
room  she  knelt  before  the  fireplace  and  arranged  the  fag- 
gots under  the  peat. 

"  What  a  picture  thou  art !  "  cried  Belle-Isle,  watching 
her  rounded  form  as  it  sank  so  unconsciously  into  dif- 
ferent attitudes  of  grace. 

"  I,  a  picture  ?  "  echoed  the  girl,  as  she  struck  her  flint. 
"  Thou  art  no  artist,  if  a  great  woman  such  as  I,  —  in  all 

37 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

but  years,  —  for,  big  as  I  am,  I  am  only  eighteen  — 
How  old  art  thou,  if  it  please  thee?" 

"  Twenty-two,  and  a  few  months  to  spare." 

"  It  is  a  good  age,"  she  said,  as  a  little  blaze  grew 
under  the  breath  of  her  bellows.  "  I  like  twenty-two." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Belle-Isle,  with  a  sudden  flashing  smile. 
"  Oh,  what  joy  it  is  to  live  !  " 

Wilhelmina's  face  clouded.  "Ay,  my  friend,  what 
joy  when  honest  toil  has  its  reward,  and  religion  wears 
no  chains.  I  know  not  how  I  can  smile,  while  my  coun- 
try is  at  the  mercy  of  Spain.  It  is  a  strange  thing  that 
when  a  great  misfortune  broods  over  the  soul,  every  tiny 
sunbeam  that  struggles  through  the  black  cloud  can 
find  a  reflecting  spot.  It  is  so  now.  I  feel  my  country 
is  doomed.  Dear  Count  of  Egmont,  so  trusting  and 
loyal  to  the  King,  —  I  fear  harm  will  befall  him.  And 
my  father,  known  to  be  his  friend  as  well  as  dependent, 
—  will  not  the  shadow  cross  his  life,  too?  And  yet  I 
can  smile  at  thy  light  words,  thou  merry  boy !  "  She 
turned  from  the  fire  and  looked  at  him,  as  if  she  were 
many  years  older  and  knew  how  to  humor  his  moods. 
The  white  blaze  of  the  faggots  reddened  under  the  edge 
of  the  peat,  and  a  rosy  glow  was  thrown  upon  her  which 
brought  out  every  curve  and  grace,  for  the  room  had 
begun  to  grow  dark.  The  red  glare  was  caught  in  her 
hair,  where  it  changed  her  brown  tresses  to  coils  of  bur- 
nished copper.  It  painted  her  cheeks  in  the  hue  of  the 
red  rose,  it  set  burning  coals  in  the  depths  of  her  eyes. 

"  Wilhelmina  !  "  he  exclaimed.  Then  he  added,  "  But 
ever  thou  speakest  as  if  I  were  a  child.  Fair  maiden, 

38 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

credit  my  years  with  wisdom.  Look  not  upon  me  as  if 
I  were  a  boy.  I  am  a  man,  Wilhelmina ;  I  have  seen  the 
world.  I  pray  thee  look  up  to  me  in  some  particular,  — 
thou  beautiful  maiden  !  Oh,  Wilhelmina,  turn  thy  head 
a  little  toward  the  hearth,  for  an  envious  shadow  falls 
upon  thy  ear." 

Wilhelmina  jumped  up.  "  I  have  no  time  to  chase 
shadows  off  my  ears,"  she  cried  gayly;  "I  must  make  a 
hot  stew  and  bring  gladness  to  the  stomachs  of  my 
friends." 

"  Oh,  Wilhemina  !     Stomachs !  " 

"  And  why  not  stomachs,  foolish  lad  ?  " 

"  I  am  no  lad,"  cried  Belle-Isle.  "  And  as  to  stomachs, 
I  cannot  bear  thee  to  have  such  a  manner  of  speech, 
maiden.  Thou  art  like  a  sweet  honeycomb  from  which 
issue  words  like  bees  with  stings  in  their  tails.  Wilt 
thou  not  learn  to  speak  after  the  manner  —  the  manner 
of—" 

"  Thou  wouldst  say  after  the  manner  of  noble  ladies," 
said  the  girl ;  "  but  I  am  no  lady.  However,  I  am  ready 
to  learn  in  what  respect  the  subject  of  tails  hath  a  higher 
standing  above  a  discourse  on  stomachs.  And  as  for  the 
wisdom  of  thy  years,  it  is  naught.  Thou  hast  seen  the 
world.  But  more  is  to  be  learned,"  she  continued,  as 
she  set  about  the  evening's  repast,  "  in  looking  into  the 
hearts  of  those  we  love  than  in  travelling  from  mountain 
to  sea.  Thou  knowest  how  men  and  women  look,  but  I 
know  how  a  few  people  think  and  feel.  Therefore  I  am 
older  than  thou,  for  my  knowledge  is  deeper.  See, 
I  can  read  thee  through  and  through,  Belle-Isle,  but 

39 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

thou  canst  get  no  deeper  into  me  than  my  hair  and 
eyes." 

"  Say  not  thou  canst  read  me  through  and  through," 
said  the  Frenchman,  "  for  there  are  depths  in  my  nature 
which  even  I  have  not  sounded,  terrible  depths,  from 
which  I  shrink  with  a  shudder  !  " 

Wilhelmina  laughed.  "  Here,"  she  said,  "  will  be  a 
savory  mess  ere  long ;  we  will  sound  it  together."  She 
stirred  vigorously  in  a  large  kettle. 

"  Thou  wilt  not  believe  me,"  he  cried  desperately. 
"  Well,  then,  I  will  tell  thee  a  thing.  Within  me  are  two 
natures,  each  different  from  the  other." 

"  That  is  no  great  thing,"  she  cried,  "there  are  four 
natures  in  me :  the  first  wants  to  be  good,  and  the 
second  would  rather  not;  the  third  asks  for  food  and 
sleep  and  a  quiet  rest  in  the  chimney-corner  and  a  smile 
from  a  friend,  — I  like  that  third  nature  better  than 
all,  but  it  must  not  be  humored  over  much,  for  it  means 
idleness  and  sloth.  And  there  is  a  fourth  nature, —  I 
am  afraid  of  it;  sometimes  it  stirs  within  like  the  turn 
of  a  knife  in  a  wound ;  sometimes  I  can  forget  it 
altogether." 

"  That  is  passing  strange,"  cried  Belle-Isle.  "  Now,  for 
what  doth  this  fourth  part  of  thee  clamor?  " 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Wilhelmina,  "  unless  it  be  for  — 
love." 

"  Now  who  knows,"  cried  Belle-Isle,  "  but  I  was  sent 
hither  to  satisfy  that  very  fourth  part  of  thee?  " 

Wilhelmina  showed  her  teeth  at  him  most  provok- 
ingly,  but  she  was  too  much  occupied  in  hanging  the 

40 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

kettle  over  the  fire  to  reply.  At  this  moment  Jan  and 
the  Holland  Wolves  tramped  into  the  room. 

"What  do  I  see?"  cried  Bilder  angrily.  "The  maid 
and  the  Frenchman  alone  together !  Now  why  does 
Hendrik  leave  you  twain  to  concoct  sentiment?" 

"  The  two  of  them !  "  cried  Hans.  "  The  two  of 
them !  " 

"  Have  no  fear,"  cried  the  girl  cheerfully.  "  He  hath 
made  no  attempt  to  eat  me  up." 

"  I  like  not  what  I  see,"  growled  Bilder. 

"  Then  close  thine  eyes  and  lift  up  thy  nose,"  said  the 
girl,  "  for,  I  promise  thee,  a  most  savory  odor  will  pres- 
ently arise  and  woo  thy  soul,  —  for  I  must  not  say  thy 
stomach,  Bilder ;  it  is  shame  to  thee  to  carry  such  an 
organ  under  thy  jerkin  of  curried  leather." 

The  men  sat  down  heavily,  and  with  Belle-Isle  they 
formed  a  semicircle,  which  was  presently  completed  by 
the  return  of  Hendrik.  The  men  fastened  their  eyes 
upon  the  girl  and  the  kettle,  the  former  delighting  their 
eyes,  and  the  latter  lifting  them  up  in  an  ecstasy  of 
anticipation;  for  a  warm,  heavy,  tingling  odor  issued 
from  the  bubbling  stew.  Bilder  smacked  his  lips,  and 
thrust  a  fragment  of  his  huge  whiskers  between  his  teeth 
to  stay  his  appetite.  Hans  repeatedly  moistened  his  lips 
with  his  tongue  and  then  rubbed  them  with  the  back  of 
his  hairy  hand.  But  Jan,  the  picture  of  impassive,  im- 
movable patience,  stared  straight  at  the  kettle  with  large 
eyes,  and  stirred  not  a  muscle. 

"  I  returned  the  horse,"  said  Hendrik.  "The  Count 
had  gone  to  the  Regent's,  —  there  to  meet  Alva.  You 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

were  very  indiscreet,  to-day,  crying  '  Long  live  the  Beg- 
gars !  '  I  heard  some  one  speak  of  it  as  I  passed  along 
the  canal.  I  heard  your  names  spoken  in  anger.  I  fear 
they  will  fall  upon  you  this  night." 

"  By  St.  Bavon !  "  cried  Hans,  striking  the  floor  im- 
patiently with  his  heels,  "  speak  me  no  words,  Hendrik, 
till  I  have  fallen  upon  this  stew,  for  I  cannot  endure  to 
be  trifled  with.  I  mean  no  offence,  good  friend,  but  give 
o'er  I  pray,  for  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  the  taste  that 
must  soon  tickle  my  palate." 

"  I  have  my  reward  when  I  cook  for  Bilder  and  Hans," 
said  Wilhelmina  smiling.  "  I  would  rather  see  them  eat 
than  feed  myself;  their  teeth  are  so  big  and  sharp 
and  they  clutch  their  victuals  so  lustily."  Belle-Isle 
shuddered. 

"  If  thou  wilt  marry  me,"  cried  Bilder,  "  I  will  so  de- 
light thee  three  times  a  day  !  " 

"  I  can  eat  quicker  than  Bilder,  —  and  more,"  cried 
Hans.  "  Just  watch  us  to-night  and  see  who  gets 
through  first  without  choking." 

"  'T  is  false  !  "  shouted  Bilder,  starting  up  in  a  passion. 
"  Hans  Foot,  I  tell  thee,  't  is  false  !  I  can  get  a  chicken 
down  my  throat  whilst  thou  art  sticking  at  the  feathers." 

"  Bilder  Kopperzoon  !  "  roared  Hans,  springing  to  his 
enormous  feet,  "  an  thou  say  word  of  mine  is  false  —  " 

"  Good  Bilder,  good  Hans ! "  remonstrated  Wilhel- 
mina, "  remember  the  promise.  Not  for  a  year  are  you 
to  come  to  any  quarrel  on  my  account." 

"  Ay,"  growled  Bilder,  sinking  back  in  his  chair,  "  it  is 
true." 

42 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

"  Ay,"  said  Hans.  "  But  on  that  day,  the  one  of  us 
thou  dost  not  choose  —  " 

"  Will  slay  the  other,"  said  Bilder,  "  an  he  be  given 
power  of  God." 

"  It  is  well  spoken !  "  cried  Hans.  "  Come,  Bilder, 
we  must  not  quarrel  yet."  They  shook  hands. 

"  And  will  you  treat  me  so  despitefully  on  my  wed- 
ding-day, as  to  make  me  a  widow?"  cried  the  girl, 
hiding  her  face,  so  they  could  not  know  if  she  were  in 
earnest. 

"  Ay,"  said  Bilder,  "  we  have  sworn  to  fight  a  duel  on 
thy  marriage-day." 

"  But  grieve  not,  Wilhelmina,"  said  Hans  soothingly, 
"  one  of  us  will  be  left  for  thee.  If  not  thy  husband,  the 
other,  who  loves  thee  full  as  headily." 

At  this  moment  Jan  announced  his  mind.  "Bilder, 
thou  and  Hans  have  no  right  to  come  into  my  father's 
house  and  quarrel,  leaping  to  your  feet  as  if  there 
were  bees  in  your  doublets.  This  is  a  home  of  peace 
and  love,  and  ye  shall  not  come  here  and  talk  of 
duels  and  husbands  and  such  incendiary  subjects." 

"  With  submission,  Jan,  with  submission,"  growled 
Bilder. 

"We  were  wrong,"  said  Hans.  "At  least  Bilder 
was." 

"  Now,  may  I  ask,"  spoke  up  Belle-Isle,  "  if  it  is  really 
settled  and  predestined  that  Wilhelmina  must  marry  one 
of  you  fair  gentlemen  this  day  a  year?  " 

"  Ay,"  said  Bilder,  "  it  is  predestined  and  settled,  as  far 
as  any  beggar  of  a  Frenchman  is  concerned." 

43 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  It  is  no  such  thing,  Bilder  Kopperzoon !  "  cried 
Wilhelmina  sharply.  "  An  thou  cast  the  word  '  beggar ' 
at  the  poor  boy  again,  I  will  cast  my  iron  ladle  at  thy 
head  ! " 

"  Wilhelmina,"  said  her  father,  "  if  I  had  not  known 
thee  from  the  beginning,  I  would  sometimes  think  thee 
a  man  disguised  as  a  maid  !  "  Wilhelmina  looked  as  if 
she  had  suddenly  received  a  blow,  for  Hendrik  seldom 
spoke  in  censure.  She  subsided  slowly  into  a  chair,  and 
put  her  face  in  her  arms,  the  ladle  sticking  straight  from 
her  shoulder.  The  Wolves  looked  at  the  woful  figure 
and  blinked  their  eyes,  and  groaned  and  tapped  the 
floor  with  their  iron  heels.  Hendrik,  feeling  that  he  had 
done  his  duty,  but  afraid  he  would  undo  it  if  he  wit- 
nessed his  daughter's  sorrow,  strode  sternly  from  the 
room.  Jan  slowly  raised  his  ponderous  form  from  his 
great  chair  and  marched  over  to  Wilhelmina.  He  laid 
his  massive  red  hand  upon  her  shaking  shoulder.  At 
that,  Wilhelmina  began  to  sob. 

"  Sister,"  said  Jan,  "  thou  knowest  our  father  spoke 
for  the  best,  for  seeing  we  have  no  mother,  who  else  may 
tell  thee  of  little  defects?  I  know  thou  art  at  times  a 
trifle,  —  we  may  not  say  like  a  man,  but  let  us  say,  not 
like  a  woman,  —  God  bless  thy  sweet  soul  and  the  saints 
preserve  thee  !  Now  if  thou  wilt  but  think,  thou  must 
know  it  is  not  for  sweet  girls  to  cast  iron  ladles  at  the 
heads  of  friends." 

"  Let  her  cast  her  ladle  at  me !  "  roared  Bilder. 
"Who,  in  God's  name,  will  say  her  nay?  Not  I,  by 
St/Bavon!" 

44 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

"  Everybody  finds  fault  with  me,"  sobbed  Wilhel- 
miiia.  "  I  wonder  why  I  was  not  born  to  people's 
tastes  !  " 

Jan  drew  her  arms  apart  and  placed  them  about  his 
neck,  and  lifted  her  up  against  his  enormous  breast. 
"  Now  as  God  lives,  sister,"  he  cried,  "  thou  art  so  much 
to  my  taste  that  other  damsels  seem  insipid.  Every- 
thing in  life  is  sweeter  to  me  because  my  sister  walks 
the  earth,  and  scatters  her  smiles  along  my  path. 
And  so  it  is  with  our  father.  I  know  he  is  even  now 
in  tears,  poor  body,  because  he  felt  compelled  to  speak 
up  and  prevent  a  casting  of  ladles." 

"  Let  us  go  find  him,  Jan.  Am  I  a  pleasure  to  thee, 
brother,  at  all  times,  even  when  I  am  wicked  ?  " 

"  Ay,  thou  art  at  times  wicked,"  said  Jan, "  but  I  love 
thee  all  the  better  for  that.  Thank  God  there  is  no 
saint's  soul  in  this  sister's  body ! " 

"  Why,  Jan  !     To  speak  so  !     But  poor  father  — 

"LThen  come,  sister,  let  us  find  him." 

"Might  not  we  first  set  the  stew  upon  the  table?" 
suggested  Hans  Foot  timidly.  No  one  heeded  him. 
Brother  and  sister  marched  to  the  door,  and  just 
without  they  discovered  Hendrik,  with  his  knuckles 
in  his  eyes.  Wilhelmina  gave  a  cry,  and  leaving 
her  brother,  ran  and  threw  her  arms  about  the  gray 
head. 

"  I  will  not  throw  that  iron  ladle,  father !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, laughing  and  crying  at  the  same  time.  "  And 
I  will  not  be  so  foolish  again  as  to  mind  it  when  thou 
scoldest  me  for  my  wickedness." 

45 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Nay,  daughter,  but  did  I  scold  thee  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but  indeed  thou  didst,  and  before  all  that  com- 
pany !  How  thou  didst  speak  to  me,  —  so  fierce  !  " 

"  Did  I  speak  fierce,  daughter?  " 

"But  I  will  be  better,  father;  it  has  done  me  good. 
Only,  —  I  am  so  used  to  thinking  whatever  I  do  is  right ! 
Thou  must  promise  to  scold  me  whenever  I  need  it,  — 
that  must  be  every  day,  I  know.  Yes  it  must,  I  know 
it;  I  am  a  wicked  girl, — Jan  says  so." 

Jan  opened  his  mouth. 

"  Don't  you  say  a  word,  Jan !  "  cried  Wilhelmina, 
running  to  give  him  a  hearty  kiss  that  echoed  in  the 
room.  "  It  will  tire  thee  out,  and  I  want  thee  to  enjoy 
the  stew." 

"  I  think  it  is  burning,"  said  Hans  resignedly. 

Wilhelmina  laughed  merrily,  the  tears  still  glistening 
on  her  cheeks.  They  were  presently  seated  at  the 
table,  where  Bilder  and  Hans  occasionally  called  upon 
the  girl  to  watch  them  dispatch  their  food.  The  noise 
they  made  in  their  emulous  speed  caused  Belle-Isle 
many  a  shudder.  But  it  was  long  since  he  had  re- 
ceived a  full  meal,  and  he  made  shift  to  enjoy  himself 
heartily  by  keeping  his  observation  guarded  from  the 
beards  of  the  Wolves.  It  grew  dark  before  the  meal  had 
come  to  an  end,  and  Wilhelmina  lighted  candles  and 
set  them  at  either  end  of  the  table.  There  was  not  much 
talking.  There  was  no  room  for  words  to  issue  from  the 
mouths  of  Bilder  and  Hans.  Hendrik,  who  appeared 
abnormally  small  and  delicate  in  contrast  with  his  son 
and  daughter,  was  sad,  and  ate  but  little.  Wilhelmina 

46 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

sat  next  to  Belle-Isle  when  she  was  not  bustling  about 
on  errands  of  hospitality.  Once  he  looked  up  and 
found  her  beaming  upon  him,  with  a  large  piece  of 
brown  bread  poised  in  her  hand. 

"  God  bless  the  boy,"  she  said,  showing  her  teeth, 
"  how  he  eats !  "  Then  she  caught  one  end  of  the 
bread  in  her  strong  teeth,  and  tore  off  a  bite  that  would 
have  choked  the  Frenchman.  When  the  meal  was  at  an 
end,  the  men  sat  solemnly  along  the  wall,  watching  the 
girl  clear  away  the  supper.  Presently  she  cried  out, 
"Come,  come,  will  no  one  say  a  word?  I  am  not  a 
mystery  play  to  be  stared  at !  " 

"  Shall  I  tell  how  I  rescued  the  burgomaster  of  Valen- 
ciennes," said  Bilder,  "  and  hewed  me  three  Flemish 
heads  off  Flemish  bodies  in  the  encounter?" 

"  Ay,  let  us  hear  it,"  cried  Hans  admiringly. 

"  No,  no,"  exclaimed  Wilhelmina,  as  she  busied  about 
her  work.  "  I  have  heard  it  so  often  that  I  no  longer 
feel  sorrow  for  the  Flemish." 

"  Or  how  we  got  to  be  called  Holland  Wolves?  " 

"  Good  Bilder,  forbear.  An  old  story  is  like  an  old 
horse  that  casts  a  shoe  every  time  it  is  ridden,  until 
it  hobbles  so  painfully  we  say,  '  Turn  it  out  to  die  ! '  — 
so  let  us  have  a  new  matter.  And  that  will  be  the  story 
of  Belle-Isle." 

"  Ach !  "  exclaimed  Bilder,  "  so  that  was  what  thy 
horse  was  leading  up  to !  " 

"  I  fear,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  that  my  story  will  be  found 
of  little  interest." 

"  Then  spare  us,"  cried  Hans,  looking  at  Bilder. 

47 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  But  it  may  interest,  after  all,"  said  the  Frenchman, 
rather  hurriedly. 

"  Let  us  not  follow  such  a  doubtful  guide,"  said  Bilder, 
"  for  he  seems  unacquainted  with  his  own  country." 

Jan  spoke:  "Bilder,  Hans,  —  peace!  He  is  our 
guest  and  he  hath  such  a  desire  to  tell  his  tale,  no  one 
shall  say  him  nay.  Proceed,  Sir  Stranger,  and  whether 
it  interest  us  or  no,  I  doubt  not  it  will  give  thee  cheer. 
And  as  for  us,  however  it  may  fare,  it  cannot  last  for- 
ever, so  after  this  story  there  will  be  other  things  in 
life." 

"  I  was  born  —  "  said  Belle-Isle. 

"  He  will  begin  at  the  beginning,"  sighed  Bilder. 

"  Ay,"  sighed  Hans,  "  he  will  not  spare  us  a  circum- 
stance. But  proceed,  Frenchman,  for  Jan  wills  it.  Now 
thou  art  born,  proceed." 

"  Hark !  "  said  Hendrik,  rousing  himself  from  his 
gloomy  meditations,  "  are  there  not  voices  at  the  door?  " 

"They  come  not  hither,"  said  Bilder;  "continue, 
Frenchman,  for  thou  art  still  in  the  cradle." 

"  My  father  was  already  dead,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  and 
my  mother  died  at  my  birth.  I  was  taken  to  be  raised 
by  an  only  relative,  an  aunt,  who  died  when  I  was  ten." 

"  Now,  this  is  cheerful  matter,"  said  Bilder,  looking  at 
Hans. 

"  Interrupt  not,"  said  Hans  with  pretended  sternness. 

"  Advance,  Frenchman.     Didst  thou  die  next?  " 

"  The  voices  are  certainly  at  the  door,"  said  Jan,  who 
had  been  listening  to  determine  this  point.  "  Now  they 
cease." 

48 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

The  door  opened  cautiously,  and  a  face  looked  in. 

"  Joost  van  Boendale  !  "  cried  Hendrik.  "  Welcome  !  " 
An  old  man  entered  who,  despite  his  snowy  hair  and 
beard,  appeared  strong  and  erect.  There  was  a  rosy 
glow  of  health  in  his  cheek,  that  gave  a  quaint  touch 
of  contrast  to  his  appearance.  Belle-Isle  was  reminded 
of  red  apples  laid  in  the  snow.  Joost  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  will  not  sit  with  you.  The  nets 
are  closing  about  the  feet  of  the  faithful  of  the  Lord. 
Friend  Hendrik,  I  come  upon  an  errand  of  warning. " 

"  Dear  Joost,"  said  Hendrik,  embracing  him,  "  take 
heed  to  thyself.  We  are  never  in  such  danger  as  thou." 

"  Think  not  so,  Hendrik.  It  is  true  I  am  an  Asso- 
ciate of  the  Brethren  of  the  Confession  of  Augsburg,  and 
you  are  Catholics.  But  none  the  less  are  you  hated 
of  the  King  and  our  new  master,  the  Duke  of  Alva." 

"  We  love  our  country,"  said  Hendrik,  "  therefore  the 
King  has  sent  an  army  to  destroy  us.  But  the  King  is 
so  staunch  a  Catholic,  he  must  favor  us  rather  than 
thee." 

"  I  left  my  retreat  this  night,"  said  Joost,  holding  up 
his  hand  to  make  his  words  more  impressive,  "  because 
I  learned  that  at  two  in  the  morning  soldiers  will  be  sent 
hither  to  seize  the  Holland  Wolves.  Bilder  and  Hans, 
if  you  are  not  in  hiding  at  that  hour,  you  are  lost." 

"  We  thank  thee,"  said  Bilder ;   "  we  will  not  be  found 

at  that  hour.     Ay,  we  will  wander  forth  as  has  been  our 

wont  in  years  past,  without  a  home,  without  a  friend  save 

our  country.       May  the  kind  God  keep  hell  wide  open 

4  49 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

while  we  are  about  our  work,  for  we  will  send  a  many 
Spaniard  to  warm  at  its  fires !  " 

"  I  did  not  look  for  this  so  soon,"  said  Hans.  "  I 
thought  it  would  take  Alva  a  few  weeks  to  learn  the 
lay  of  the  land.  And  he  hath  heard  of  the  Wolves 
already  ?  " 

"  He  knew  everything  before  he  traversed  Burgundy 
and  Lorraine ;  nay,  before  he  embarked  at  Carthagena. 
So  I  came  to  tell  you,  dear  friends ;  for,  though  true 
Catholics,  you  are  also  true  patriots !  " 

"  Long  live  the  Beggars  !  "  cried  Bilder. 

"  As  for  me,"  continued  Joost,  "  for  the  sake  of  my 
daughter,  I  keep  closely  hidden.  For  when  I  walk 
abroad  and  see  the  blindness  of  the  age,  the  word  of 
God  strives  to  issue  from  my  lips.  If  it  were  not  for 
her,  Hendrik,  I  would  proclaim  the  wonderful  love  of 
our  Creator,  which  is  not  measured  by  repetitions  of 
Ave  Marias.  When  I  see  braver  men  than  I  dragged 
to  the  stake  to  suffer  for  the  cause  of  truth  and  virtue, 
I  feel  impelled  to  rush  to  the  executioner  and  command 
him  to  accept  me,  as  another  sacrifice  to  my  dear 
Master.  But,  alas  !  what  will  become  of  my  child  when 
I  am  taken  from  her?" 

"Ay,  Joost,  I  beseech  thee  never  forget  that.  Besides, 
canst  not  do  more  by  living  than  by  dying?  " 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Joost  thoughtfully.  "  Every  fire 
kindled  under  a  so-called  heretic  is  a  beacon  fire,  call- 
ing our  countrymen  to  arms.  How  else  may  we  show 
our  absolute  sincerity?  Who  can  question  the  faith  of  a 
man  when  he  gives  his  life  as  its  proof?  " 

5° 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

"  But  thy  daughter,  Kenau?  "  said  Wilhelmina  with  a 
shudder. 

"  Alas !  "  groaned  Joost.  "  And  yet  He  says,  '  Leave 
all  and  follow  me.'  " 

"  But  if  it  should  happen,"  suggested  Hendrik,  "  that 
Luther  and  Calvin  have  made  a  mistake  after  all?  Then 
there  were  a  life  thrown  away !  " 

"  Hendrik,"  said  Joost,  "  wilt  come  and  talk  with  me 
over  this  matter?" 

"  Ay,  Joost,  I  will  hear  thee.  I  have  long  said  thee 
nay.  But  I  have  been  thinking,  —  in  truth,  it  was  Jan 
who  thought  of  it  first ;  for  he  hath  wise  thoughts,  an  ye 
give  him  much  time  and  plenty  of  room,  —  that  no  man 
fears  to  hear  the  opposite  of  a  question,  unless  insecure 
in  his  own  position." 

"  Thank  God  that  thou  wilt  hear  me !  "  cried  Joost. 
"  I  ask  no  more.  Then  come  with  me.  But  I  had 
another  matter  to  speak  of.  As  I  came  to  thy  door,  I 
was  accosted  by  a  Spanish  soldier." 

"  We  heard  voices  at  the  door,"  said  Hans. 

"  He  was  sent  by  one  of  the  highest  officers  in  the 
Spanish  army,  —  so  at  least  he  told  me.  He  took  me 
for  thee,  Hendrik,  entering  my  own  door.  I  dared 
not  undeceive  him,  for  my  name  is  known,  and  death 
hangs  upon  its  sound.  Ah,  Kenau,  —  ah,  dear  God  ! 
It  is  a  terrible  thing  to  be  torn  between  love  of  child 
and  faithfulness  to  Heaven.  The  soldier  had  been  sent 
to  bid  thee  go  to  Count  Egmont  and  warn  him  to  flee, 
as  fled  the  Prince  of  Orange.  A  day  has  been  set.  for 
his  fall.  Thou  wilt  go  to  him?" 

S1 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Ay,  Joost.  But  I  fear  he  will  not  believe  me.  He 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  trust  to  the  King  and  his  own 
past  record." 

"  Father,"  said  Wilhelmina,  "  may  I  not  go  with  thee 
and  visit  Kenau  ?  I  think  Jan  would  like  to  hear  if  she 
is  well,"  and  she  gave  her  brother  a  sly  look.  Jan  sud- 
denly turned  very  red,  but  he  looked  straight  before 
him. 

"  Come,  my  dear,"  said  Joost  heartily,  "  she  pines 
away  in  her  confinement.  Come,  and  she  will  fly  to 
thy  arms." 

Hendrik,  Joost,  and  Wilhelmina  left  the  house. 
Bilder  and  Hans  passed  into  a  back  room,  saying  they 
must  get  ready  their  bundles,  in  order  to  make  their 
escape  at  midnight.  Belle-Isle  heard  their  heavy  tramp 
as  they  marched  to  an  upstairs  room  where  they  had 
been  given  a  temporary  home.  Jan  led  Belle-Isle 
to  another  upstairs  apartment,  where  he  placed  at  his 
disposal  his  father's  best  suit  of  clothes.  As  they  were 
of  about  the  same  size,  the  Frenchman  luxuriated  in  his 
fresh  apparel.  Upon  his  feet  were  comfortable  cloth 
slippers,  not  tight  enough  to  inconvenience  the  foot  that 
had  been  bruised.  With  a  sigh  of  regret  at  Wilhelmina's 
departure,  and  with  another  of  content  at  his  good  for- 
tune, the  Frenchman  sought  the  open  window,  where  a 
balmy  night-breeze  played  in  the  lattice. 

"Jan,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "what  a  strange  thing,  that  I, 
unknown  to  you  all,  sit  here  in  a  handsome  suit  of 
clothes,  my  future  robbed  of  its  cares,  my  past  troubles 
forgotten  !  Can  I  ever  repay  all  this  kindness?  " 

52 


Jan  turned  and  looked  at  him.  Belle-Isle  waited  a 
reasonable  time  for  a  response,  then  continued :  "  It 
seems  that  good  father  Joost  has  a  daughter." 

Jan  cleared  his  throat. 

"  And  so  she  must  be  kept  in  a  hidden  place,  because 
her  father  is,  as  they  say  in  my  country,  a  Huguenot? 
Poor  maiden  !  Is  she  fair  of  face,  Jan  ?  " 

Jan  blinked  his  eyes. 

"  I  have  a  thought,  Jan.  Why  not  follow  Joost  and 
thy  father?  If  I  read  aright  thy  sister's  glance,  thou 
wouldst  not  be  sorry  to  see  Kenau,  and  by  my  soul,  I 
feel  as  lonesome  sitting  here  beside  thee  (with  all  re- 
spect), as  if  I  were  a  fresh-caught  fish,  lying  gasping 
upon  the  river  bank." 

Jan  spoke :  "  To  those  who  need  our  charity,  my 
father  always  gives  the  best,  and  keeps  the  second 
best  for  himself,  who  is  not  in  want." 

"  That,  in  truth,  is  a  noble  quality,"  said  Belle-Isle, 
"  but  how  it  beareth  upon  this  projected  visit  to  Kenau, 
I  know  not,  my  friend." 

"  Why,  look  thou,"  said  Jan  with  a  sudden  spirit.  "  If 
it  be  thy  pleasure  to  talk,  talk  away.  But  do  not  expect 
me  to  skip  from  subject  to  subject  as  I  were  a  midget ! 
For  I  no  sooner  close  upon  and  grasp  one  idea  than 
thou  thrustest  a  fresh  one  into  my  ear !  " 

"  Then  forget  all  I  have  said,  good  Jan,  except  the 
last,  namely  that  we  fare  forth  after  Wilhel  —  I  mean 
after  thy  most  excellent  father.  Thou  canst  not  think 
how  it  irks  me  to  be  wasting  this  fine  suit  of  clothes 
upon  thee.  I  never  have  a  good  coat  to  my  back,  but  -I 

S3 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

long  for  a  woman.  Come,  Jan,  my  foot  is  bruised,  it  is 
true,  but  every  time  it  flinches,  I  will  think  of —  Now, 
what  sayest  thou ;  shall  it  be  a  merry  journey  to  Joost's 
home?" 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  running  feet  came  to 
their  ears.  Belle-Isle  started  up,  and  Jan  opened  his 
mouth,  whether  in  startled  surprise  or  to  speak  could 
not  be  determined.  The  door  was  flung  quickly  open, 
and  a  form  almost  fell  into  the  room.  It  was  a  woman, 
whose  age  and  condition  could  only  be  surmised,  as  she 
wore  a  heavy  veil.  She  recovered  her  equilibrium  in- 
stantly, and,  slamming  the  door,  felt  nervously  for  the 
bolt.  She  found  it,  and  shot  it  into  place,  and  stood 
with  her  back  to  the  men,  her  little  hands  leaning  against 
the  door,  in  the  attitude  of  one  who  listens  in  apprehen- 
sion. Every  motion  was  quick  and  nervous.  When 
she  looked  at  them  over  her  shoulder,  it  was  with  a 
swift  movement  of  the  little  head.  Her  dress  was  rich, 
her  form  superb  in  its  elegance  and  grace.  It  was  as  • 
much  unlike  the  sturdy,  generously  moulded  form  of 
Wilhelmina  as  might  be  desired. 

When  she  spoke,  her  voice  was  rich  and  musical. 
"  Blessed  Mary  !  They  have  lost  me." 

"  Madam,  "  said  Belle-Isle,  "  tell  me  in  what  I  can 
lend  thee  aid." 

"  Hush !  "  she  whispered,  bending  her  ear  to  the 
crevice  of  the  door.  By  this  time  Jan  was  upon  his  feet, 
looking  about  him  for  some  object.  There  came  to 
them  the  sound  of  rushing  feet.  Iron  smote  upon  stone. 

"  Try  that  door,"  said  a  voice  in  Spanish. 

54 


A    MAIDEN    OF    HOLLAND 

"  Nay,  she  came  not  hither,"   said  a  second.     "  See 

how  quiet  lies  the  house." 

A  third  voice  spoke.     "  But  there  is  a  light  within  !  " 
"  A  curse  upon  the  dogs  !  "  said  the  first.     There  came 

a  rain  of  blows  upon  the  door. 


55 


Chapter  Three 

TO    THE   RESCUE 

WITH  a  noiseless  tread,  and  with  the  lithe 
grace  of  a  panther,  the  woman  crossed  the 
room  to  the  fireplace,  where  Belle-Isle  and 
Jan  stood.  The  door  still  quivered  from 
the  blows  that  had  been  delivered  by  the  three  Spanish 
soldiers.  The  little  stranger  came  close  to  Belle-Isle, 
and  clasping  her  hands,  raised  them  toward  him  in  sup- 
plication. He  was  both  touched  and  mystified.  She 
evidently  feared  that  if  she  spoke,  her  voice  might  pene- 
trate to  the  ears  of  her  pursuers.  Belle-Isle,  although 
sure  she  was  one  of  the  two  thousand  women  without 
shame  who  had  been  such  an  affront  to  the  virtuous 
Wilhelmina,  nevertheless  felt  for  her  an  ardent  sym- 
pathy. But  wisdom  told  him  he  was  no  match  in  his 
crippled  condition  for  the  three  soldiers ;  and  even  if 
he  were,  should  he  shed  blood  for  the  sake  of  a  woman 
of  the  camp?  No,  the  house  belonged  to  Jan  Janssen, 

—  let  Jan  act  in  the  matter.     Belle-Isle  was  but  a  guest, 

—  to   oppose  the  Spaniards  for  the  unstable  favor  of 
this  fugitive  would  bring  shame  and  danger  upon  the 
home  of  his  benefactor.     These  thoughts  occurred  to 

56 


TO    THE    RESCUE 

the  Frenchman  even  as  the  woman  crossed  to  him 
and  raised  her  clasped  hands.  He  turned  away  his 
head. 

In  the  meantime  Jan,  who  was  never  troubled  by  a 
quick  succession  of  ideas,  had  seized  upon  one  thought 
and  had  been  digesting  it  at  his  leisure.  Having  now 
got  to  the  very  pith  and  marrow  of  it,  he  walked  softly 
toward  the  inner  room,  passed  through  the  door,  closed 
it  behind  him,  and  left  Belle-Isle  to  his  own  devices. 
The  Frenchman  hurled  a  furious  glance  after  the  enor- 
mous back  of  the  retreating  Dutchman,  then,  turning 
about,  discovered  the  woman  in  her  former  attitude  of 
supplication. 

A  voice  came  from  without :  "  Said  I  not  the  house 
was  deserted?  It  is  not  long  since  I  came  hither  with 
a  message  to  the  master,  one  Hendrik  Janssen,  calling 
him  away.  Be  sure  he  is  gone,  for  the  order  had  a  life 
hanging  upon  its  fulfilment." 

"And  said  I  not  that  a  light  burns  within?"  cried 
another.  "  Hendrik  Janssen,  or  whoever  he  may  be,  is 
one  of  these  Dutch  devils,  else  he  would  not  be  living 
here  with  his  nose  hanging  over  a  vile  canal.  And  will 
a  Dutchman  go  away  and  leave  his  light  burning  for 
nothing?  " 

"  It  is  true,  by  St  James  !  "  said  a  third.  "  Hendrik 
may  be  gone,  but  is  he  the  whole  family?  We  will  have 
that  jade  out  of  the  heretical  nest !  Have  we  brought 
these  females  all  the  way  from  Castile  as  gifts  to  ex- 
communicated Netherlanders?  " 

"  Well  spoke,  comrade  !  An  I  get  my  hands  on  her, 

57 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

she  will  never  turn  heels  to  a  Spanish  warrior  again,  as 
Philip  is  my  King?" 

"  Thy  hands  on  her,  indeed  !  Not  so,  Gonzalvo,  not 
so.  We  will  throw  dice  for  the  beauty.  Now  !  "  The 
door  leaped  in  its  fastenings  as  fierce  blows  echoed 
throughout  the  room. 

The  fugitive,  her  form  quivering  from  head  to  foot, 
clasped  her  hands  frantically  about  Belle-Isle's  arm. 
"  Save  me,"  she  whispered.  "  Oh,  Holy  Mary !  I  am 
undone ! " 

Belle-Isle  bent  his  mouth  to  her  ear  that  his  voice 
might  not  reach  the  pursuers.  "  Why  hast  fled  from 
them?"  he  whispered.  "  For  what  other  reason  earnest 
thou  into  this  land,  but  to  be  a  cure  for  homesickness 
to  thine  own  countrymen?" 

She  took  her  hands  hastily  away,  and  retreated  a 
few  steps.  But  need  was  imperative.  She  returned. 
"  Thou  art  mistaken,"  she  whispered.  "  I  am  not  one 
of  those  outcasts.  Save  my  honor  an  thou  be  a  true 
knight." 

"  Do  the  ladies  of  Spain  run  the  streets  of  Brussels 
at  night?"  he  returned  in  a  low  voice.  "Besides,  did 
not  the  soldiers  describe  thy  condition?  No  lady  came 
with  Alva's  army ;  yet  thou  didst  come  with  that  army. 
Thou  art,  then,  no  lady." 

"  We  must  break  in  the  door,"  said  a  voice.  "  See, 
Gonzalvo,  is  there  no  heavy  beam  lying  hereabouts?" 

"  The  door  is  heavy  oak,"  said  another.  "  By  St. 
James  !  an  we  once  get  within,  we  will  make  them  pay 
dearly  for  our  pains.  We  will  make  them  warning  to 

58 


TO    THE    RESCUE 

all  the  natives  in  Netherland,  to  turn  their  eyes  to  their 
own  wooden-sandalled,  barrel-shaped  damsels,  nor  dare 
to  look  at  those  we  brought  hither  with  our  money  and 
our  pains.  By  St.  James  and  the  holy  saints  !  shall  we 
listen  to  their  complaints  and  naggings  and  ten  thou- 
sand demands  all  the  way  from  San  Ambrosio  across 
the  Alps,  through  Savoy  to  the  Luxemburg  frontier, 
and  then  have  them,  on  the  night  of  our  arrival,  fly  to 
our  enemies?  —  What  fortune,  Gonzalvo?  " 

"  The  street  is  as  bare  of  heavy  beams  as  my  own 
eyes.  There  are  two  windows  to  the  room,  but  they 
open  upon  the  foul  canal.  The  other  side  is  a  blank 
wall.  The  house  is  built  as  a  fortress." 

"  Let  us  look,  then,  for  a  loose  cobblestone." 

"  Ay,  a  noble  thought !  Now  we  shall  soon  run  the 
rats  out  of  their  hole."  Their  feet  were  heard  as  they 
groped  their  way  over  the  massive  cobblestones. 

In  the  meantime  the  fugitive  had  appealed  again  to 
the  Frenchman.  "  I  am  not  such  a  one  as  thou  and 
they  suppose.  For  very  pity  and  for  very  manhood's 
sake,  deliver  me  !  " 

"  I  know  well  enough  what  thou  art,"  said  Belle-Isle, 
"but  perchance  thou  hast  been  driven  to  the  life  by 
wrongs  or  starvation.  But  I  must  pay  heed  to  my  own 
life  at  this  moment.  I  must  get  out  of  this  as  I  may, 
by  Belle-Isle  !  Look  to  thyself,  woman  !  I  pity  thee, 
but  cannot  endanger  myself  for  such  as  thou." 

"  For  such  as  I !  "  she  repeated  haughtily.  She 
raised  her  hand  in  desperate  haste,  and  tore  away  the 
veil.  "  Look  upon  me.  Read  what  is  written  upon  my 

59 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

face,  and  if  there  is  a  word  blurred  by  shame  or  an  evil 
life,  thrust  thy  dagger  into  my  bosom." 

"As  God  lives!  "  cried  Belle-Isle,  starting  back,  "It 
is  the  old  man's  esquire !  "  It  was,  in  truth,  the  one 
who,  in  male  attire,  had  so  engaged  his  attention  and 
admiration ;  the  one  who  had  lifted  a  ringer  in  warning, 
who  had  made  the  sign  of  the  cross.  And  as  that  face 
had  seemed  too  delicate  and  that  form  too  dainty  and 
symmetrical  for  a  soldier,  they  now  became  the  glory 
and  the  charm  of  the  beautiful  woman  who  fastened  her 
eyes  upon  his  face.  "  Read  here,"  she  repeated.  "  Am 
I  what  thou  saidst?  " 

"  What  art  thou  ?  "  he  faltered.     "  And  why  —  " 

"  I  am  that  warrior's  daughter  whose  musket  I  carried 
as  his  esquire." 

"  Come,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "  let  us  try  the  rear  of 
the  house.  Surely  we  can  crawl  through  any  gap  that 
let  pass  the  burly  shape  of  Jan  Janssen."  The  maiden 
drew  her  thick  veil  over  her  face,  and  prepared  to  follow. 
Belle-Isle  opened  the  inner  door.  He  started  back  as  a 
Spanish  soldier  sprang  upon  the  threshold.  At  the 
same  time  a  terrific  blow  came  upon  the  door  that  led 
into  the  street. 

"  Hola,  comrades!"  shouted  the  Spaniard,  "I  have 
scaled  the  ramparts  in  the  rear !  " 

"  What !  "  cried  a  voice  from  without.  "  Is  that  thou, 
Don  Antonio,  already  in  the  room  ?  " 

"  Ay ;  and  here  she  stands,  clinging  to  some  image 
which  cannot  be  a  man,  for  it  carries  no  sword  at  its 
side." 

60 


TO    THE    RESCUE 

"  Hasten,  then,  and  unbar  the  door,  Don  Antonio." 

"  Not  I,"  returned  the  victorious  soldier,  casting  an 
evil  leer  at  the  fugitive,  and  drawing  his  sword.  "  Get 
in  an  ye  can.  I  will  cut  a  door  in  this  fellow's  heart  to 
let  out  his  life,  and  have  the  woman  for  my  prize." 

"  Lady,"  said  Belle-Isle  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  fear  we  are 
both  undone,  for  I  am  as  bare  of  weapons  as  the  day  I 
was  born.  I  would  God  thou  hadst  a  musket  or  sword 
somewhere  about  thee." 

"  Here  is  my  dagger,"  said  the  maiden,  thrusting  it 
into  his  hand.  "  Be  good  knight  to  me,  sir,  and  God 
have  mercy  upon  us  both  !  "  They  stood  in  the  corner 
of  the  room  next  the  fireplace.  The  man  who  had  in- 
vaded the  apartment  from  the  rear  was  a  powerfully 
built  soldier,  dressed  in  gilded  armor,  and  defended  by 
a  glittering  sword  which  he  held  drawn,  as  he  paused 
on  the  inner  threshold. 

"  Now  hearken  unto  me,  boy,"  said  the  Spaniard,  "  for 
I  perceive  thou  art  no  miserable  worm  of  this  doomed 
land,  but  a  bird  from  another  country.  Give  the  maiden 
back  her  plaything,  and  run  away,  for  I  do  not  care  to 
spill  such  innocent  blood.  Knowest  thou  this  woman  is 
not  worth  thy  little  finger?  Yield  thee  and  go  free !  " 

The  door  shook  under  repeated  blows.  "  An  thou 
let  us  not  in,"  shouted  a  voice  from  without,  "  it  will  be 
an  ill  day  for  thee,  Antonio  !  She  is  as  much  ours  as 
thine." 

"  Oh,  no,  comrades,  indeed,  no,  dear  friends  !  For  I 
have  her  in  my  net  and  you  are  outside  the  door.  Pray 
God  the  door  may  hold  firm,  and  indeed  I  think  it  may, 

61 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

for  it  is  well  wrought,  and  oaken  !  How  now,  boy,  wilt 
live  or  die?" 

"That  shall  be  as  it  may,"  cried  Belle-Isle,  grasping 
the  jewelled  dagger.  "  But  if  God  allows  thee  to  over- 
come me,  I  shall  have  my  own  opinion !  " 

"  Sacramento !  "  cried  the  Spaniard,  rushing  upon 
him  with  hissing  blade. 

"  Belle-Isle  !  "  cried  the  Frenchman,  springing  aside, 
and  making  a  futile  attack  with  his  short  weapon. 

"  Long  live  the  Beggars  !  "  came  suddenly  the  hoarse 
shout  of  Bilder  and  Hans.  The  Holland  Wolves  sprang 
into  the  room  from  the  rear.  With  a  mighty  leap  Bilder 
Kopperzoon  was  upon  the  Spaniard  before  the  latter 
had  recovered  from  his  surprise.  The  Hollander  made 
a  sweeping  blow  with  his  gigantic  sword,  and  the  head 
of  Don  Antonio  rolled  upon  the  floor,  the  body  falling 
with  a  crash.  The  blows  on  the  outer  door  became 
deafening.  Hans  had  been  holding  back,  his  arms 
burdened  with  a  roll  of  garments.  He  now  came  for- 
ward, and,  falling  upon  his  knees,  began  to  clothe  the 
dead  soldier  in  a  woman's  dress. 

"  Alack !  "  shouted  Bilder  in  stentorian  tones,  "  the 
Spaniard  hath  slain  the  poor  female.  Is  this  Spanish 
chivalry !  " 

"  What  sayest  thou  !  "  roared  a  voice  from  without. 
"  Open  this  door,  dog  of  a  Dutchman  !  " 

"  I  will  open  it,  good  sirs,"  cried  Bilder.  "  Only  have 
patience.  For  my  heart  is  as  wax.  Alack !  to  see  a 
maiden  slain  before  my  eyes  and  then  the  Spanish 
murderer  escape."  Here  Bilder  motioned  Belle-Isle 

62 


TO    THE    RESCUE 

and  the  fugitive  into  the  inner  room.     They  obeyed  the 
signal. 

"  He  is  now  dressed,"  said  Hans,  "  but  behold  these 
great  boots  looking  from  under  the  petticoat !  " 

"  Sit  on  them,"  counselled  Bilder,  "  and  be  lamenting 
for  the  poor  darling." 

"  But  look  at  that  head,"  whispered  Hans  in  a  rough 
guttural  voice  that  refused  to  be  softened.  "  They 
will  never  believe  that  head  came  off  a  damsel's 
shoulders." 

"By  St.  Bavon!"  cried  Bilder  impatiently.  "Why 
did  we  ever  attempt  this  thing?  In  peace  there  are  a 
thousand  things  to  think  of,  but  in  war,  it  is  merely  the 
cutting  of  throats.  Let  it  be  war,  then  !  " 

At  this  moment  the  outer  door  fell  in  with  a  crash, 
and  a  crowd  of  furious  soldiers  swarmed  into  the  room. 
The  original  three  had  been  joined  by  their  comrades. 
At  least  a  dozen  men  leaped  over  the  fallen  door,  then 
paused  with  amazed  eyes  at  the  sight  of  Hans  sitting 
upon  the  boots  of  the  headless  warrior  whose  gory 
armor  was  concealed  by  one  of  Wilhelmina's  white 
dresses. 

"  Alack,  fair  gentles,"  cried  Hans  with  a  terrific  roar 
of  simulated  grief,  "  behold  my  darling,  slain  by  one 
of  your  comrades !  He  hath  escaped,  through  the 
chimney  vent." 

"What  sight  is  this?"  said  the  leader  of  the  soldiers, 
unable  to  fathom  the  meaning  of  the  grotesque  scene. 
"  Who  was  it,  Gonzalvo,  who  reached  the  room  from 
the  rear?" 

63 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  My  darling,  my  little  lamb  !  "  roared  Hans,  sticking 
close  to  the  boots. 

"  It  was  Don  Antonio.  As  for  this  dead  woman,  she 
was  never  the  jade  we  were  pursuing  !  " 

"  Now  this  is  like  Don  Antonio's  carelessness  !  "  cried 
the  other,  looking  at  his  men  gravely  and  shaking  his 
grizzled  locks.  "  See,  he  hath  left  his  head  under  the 
table  where  stands  the  holy  water !  " 

A  quick  glance  on  the  part  of  the  soldiers,  —  and 
from  their  throats  burst  a  shout  of  fury. 


64 


Chapter  Four 

FLIGHT     WITH  ROSAMUNDA 

WHEN  Belle- Isle,  obeying  the  gesture  of 
Bilder  Kopperzoon,  hurried  the  fugitive 
into  the  room  back  of  the  front  apartment, 
he  found  Jan  waiting. 

"  Out  of  this  window,"  said  Jan,  —  a  preposterous 
blurred  shape  in  the  gloom.  A  window  stood  open, 
looking  upon  the  canal.  Belle-Isle  ran  to  the  window, 
forgetting  his  bruised  foot.  The  maiden  kept  beside 
him.  A  rope  hung  down  into  the  darkness. 

"  What  is  at  the  end  of  this  rope?  "  asked  Belle-Isle. 
Jan  did  not  answer  immediately.     The  furious  cry  of 
the  soldiers  came   from  the  adjoining  room.      Belle-Isle 
felt  the  fugitive  clutch  his  sleeve. 

"  Wilt  adventure  with  me  into  the  night?"  he  asked, 
"  Oh,  hasten,  — yes,  yes  !  " 

"  I  go  first,"  said  the  Frenchman,  dropping  over  the 
window-sill,  his  hands  clutching  the  rope. 
"  A  boat  is  at  the  end  of  it,"  said  Jan.. 
Belle-Isle  called  from  below.     "  Come,  lady-esquire  I 
Have  no  fear.     I  will  receive  thee." 

"  It  is  so  dark,"  she  said.     Then  there  came  the  clash 
of  sword  blades  from  the  front  room,  and  the  startling 
s  65 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

report  of  a  musket.  Jan  threw  open  the  door  through 
which  she  had  made  her  escape,  and,  with  drawn  sword, 
strode  to  the  assistance  of  Bilder  and  Hans.  The 
maiden  with  wild  eyes  stared  upon  the  shifting  scene,  — 
a  scene  where  the  actors  swayed  back  and  forth,  or 
leaped  from  side  to  side  with  curse  and  groan,  while 
ever  rose  the  clash  of  arms,  mingled  with  the  iron  tramp 
of  restless  feet. 

"  Come !  "  cried  Belle-Isle  from  beneath  the  window, 
"  Lady-esquire  I  wilt  throw  away  thy  chance?  " 

But  she,  as  if  petrified  with  terror,  stood  staring,  her 
hands  clutching  at  her  breast.  She  saw  Hans  holding 
three  Spaniards  at  bay.  as  the  Holland  Wolf  set  his  back 
to  a  corner,  and  slashed  out  with  his  long  blade.  One 
of  the  Spaniards  fell.  "  Long  live  the  Beggars ! " 
shouted  Hans,  keeping  the  other  two  at  bay  with  his 
bloody  sword. 

"Long  live  the  Beggars!"  echoed  Bilder,  but  his  voice 
did  not  come  with  its  accustomed  force.  He  was  almost 
overcome,  but  the  fugitive  could  not  see  him  from  her 
position  by  the  window.  Hans,  conscious  from  the 
tone  that  his  friend  was  at  a  disadvantage,  but  not 
daring  to  look  his  way,  for  he  also  was  hard  pressed, 
took  new  strength  and  a  fiercer  desperation  from  his 
fear. 

"The  Holland  Wolves  !  "  he  cried,  and,  suddenly  leav- 
ing the  corner,  pressed  upon  both  foes  at  once,  his  blade 
flashing  with  such  terrific  speed  and  energy  that  it  was 
able  to  keep  each  of  the  attacking  blades  from  his  bosom. 
"  Down !  "  he  cried,  his  eyes  glowing  like  the  red  eyes 

66 


FLIGHT    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

of  a  hyena  who  sees  his  prey  about  to  fall.     "  A  death  ! 
Long  live  the  Beggars  !  " 

This  time  Bilder  did  not  echo  the  cry;  he  had  no 
breath  to  spare.  Where  was  Jan?  The  maiden  could 
not  see  him.  Hans  now  fought  with  only  one,  the  most 
valiant  of  the  three,  but  suddenly  the  Spaniard  lost  his 
sword,  for  the  Hollander  sent  it  whirring  upward,  where 
it  drove  its  point  into  the  ceiling.  The  Spaniard  fled  to 
his  comrades.  Hans  instead  of  pursuing  his  defenceless 
foe.  ran  to  the  long  table  and  caught  up  a  candle.  His 
voice  rose  above  the  fearful  din.  "  Look,  gentles,  look  !  " 
he  cried.  He  rushed  toward  the  lower  end  of  the  table, 
put  the  candle  beside  the  other,  and  with  one  breath 
extinguished  all  the  light  in  the  room. 

The  girl  recovered  with  a  start  from  the  spell  terror 
had  cast  upon  her.  She  found  the  bottom  of  a  boat. 
She  crouched  in  the  gloom  while  the  Frenchman,  without 
a  word,  rowed  away.  Lights  occasionally  twinkled  faintly 
from  either  side  of  the  canal,  but  for  the  most  part  they 
were  in  a  heavy  gloom,  punctuated  by  brilliant  stars. 
They  could  scarcely  see  the  water  within  reach  of  their 
hands,  for  it  was  black  from  the  refuse  and  dust  of  a 
great  city. 

When  the  home  of  the  Janssens  was  lost  from  sight, 
Belle-Isle  spoke :  "  Why  didst  thou  keep  me  waiting  in 
such  danger  both  to  thee  and  me?  Look  thou,  lady- 
esquire,  an  thou  go  with  me,  thou  must  do  my  bidding, 
or  I  will  do  thine.  Come,  now,  who  shall  be  captain?" 

"  Senor,  I  could  not  come,  for  what  I  saw  rooted  me 
to  the  spot.  But  I  will  obey  thee." 

67 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Call  me  Belle-Isle,"  he  said ;  "  it  will  lend  a  new  value 
to  my  name.  Thou  mayest  trust  me  through  life.  What 
are  thy  wishes  ?  " 

"  Take  me  home,  Belle-Isle,  and  thou  shalt  have  a  rich 
reward." 

"  Nay,  I  am  enjoying  my  reward  now,  lady-esquire,  for 
though  I  cannot  see  thy  beauty,  my  memory  is  like  a 
clock  that  hath  stopped  at  a  golden  hour,  —  the  moment 
thou  didst  lift  thy  veil  and  ask  me  to  read  thy  face. 
And  I  read  it  so  thoroughly  that  I  can  now  recite  it  by 
heart  without  a  candle  for  prompting." 

"  Thou  hast  promised  so  much,"  she  said,  "  add 
this:  that  thou  wilt  not  speak  of  love  to  me,  for  that 
were  to  rob  the  flower  of  thy  benefaction  of  all  save 
its  thorn." 

"  It  shall  be  no  love,  then,"  said  the  Frenchman. 
"  Thou  mightst  have  asked  me  an  easier  task.  Where  is 
thy  home  that  I  may  take  thee  thither?" 

"  The  house  of  a  certain  Madame  de  Jasse.  Knowest 
thou  the  place?  It  is  a  large  palace." 

"  Why,  I  know  the  place  fully  as  well  as  any  other 
in  Brussels,"  said  Belle-Isle  calmly.  "  And  when  I  tell 
thee  I  would  not  know  Hendrik  Janssen's  house  again 
ifit  were  set  before  my  nose,  thou  mayest  take  inventory 
of  my  knowledge  of  the  city.  In  truth,  I  never  saw  this 
place  till  this  day,  when  I  was  driven  straight  to  Janssen's 
house,  into  the  which  I  entered,  and  wherein  I  was  so 
engaged  in  studying  a  picture  there,  I  did  not  once  poke 
head  out  of  window." 

"A  picture?     Art,  then,  an  artist?" 

68 


FLIGHT    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

"  Nay,  but  a  judge  of  art,  which  is  better.  For  is  it 
not  better  to  pick  flaws  in  pictures  than  to  be  a  maker 
of  pictures  for  other  flaw-pickers?  I  should  like  to 
know  if  we  are  rowing  in  the  right  direction.  We  are 
at  least  leaving  a  safe  distance  between  us  and  thy  bloody 
friends,  the  Spaniards."  There  was  an  uneasy  pause, 
while  the  oars  dipped  regularly  into  the  blackened 
tide. 

On  either  side  rose  abrupt  brick  walls,  pierced  with 
windows  high  from  the  water,  through  which  came  the 
subdued  glow  of  candles.  When  they  came  to  a  street 
that  ran  down  to  the  canal,  moving  lights  and  the  call  of 
voices  told  them  that  the  city  was  astir.  Fear  whispered 
that  they  were  the  cause  of  the  activity,  and  the  French- 
man redoubled  his  strokes. 

"  Lady-esquire,"  he  said  suddenly,  when  grim  silence 
surrounded  them  once  more,  "  I  cannot  keep  from  my 
mind  the  thought  that  I  am  playing  a  fool's  part  in  a 
light  play.  I  wish  not  to  entertain  this  thought.  I  close 
the  door  of  my  mind  against  it,  but  it  comes  scratching 
against  the  panels.  I  cry  to  it,  '  Away,  dog,  away ! ' 
but  it  whines  and  scratches  worse  than  ever.  What  art 
thou  but  a  Spaniard  come  to  Brabant  in  man's  clothes, 
—  likewise  a  beautiful  woman  wandering  the  streets  of 
its  capital  at  night  with  Spaniards  at  thy  heels?  By 
Belle-Isle,  lady-esquire,  I  know  not  why  I  should  run  my 
neck  into  the  halter  for  the  sake  of  a  woman  brought 
along  with  Alva's  army !  There  be  two  thousand  light- 
hearted  damsels  in  his  train,  and  thou  art  one,  I  fear,  an 
it  please  thee." 

69 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  I  swear  to  thee,  Belle-Isle,  upon  the  crucifix  —  " 
"  Do  not  swear  to  me,"  he  said.  "  What  I  want  is  not 
swearing,  but  talking  to  the  point.  Now,  as  for  me,  I 
have  no  fear  for  myself,  nor  care  I  for  my  future.  Belle- 
Isle  always  comes  out  with  a  whole  skin  and  a  smile. 
It  is  nothing  to  me  that  I  am  a  stranger  in  Brussels. 
But  how  I  may  go  about  with  a  woman  in  my  boat, 
—  never  sure  that  her  soul  is  as  fair  as  her  face,  and 
neither  one  of  us  a  married  person,  and  both  of  us 
young  —  " 

"  Sir,  I  will  tell  thee  who  and  what  I  am,  and  after 
that,  if  thou  doubt  me,  set  me  ashore  to  fare  as  I 
may.  Yet  to  tell  thee  my  story  is  to  throw  me  at  thy 
mercy.  For  I  must  tell  thee  what  is  known  to  but  one 
other  in  all  the  army,  —  I  mean  my  father.  And  if  my 
father  learn  that  I  have  revealed  the  secret,  I  am 
ruined." 

"  Fear  me  not,  lady-esquire,  I  do  not  wish  to  learn 
thy  story  to  tell  to  others,  but  to  repeat  to  myself.  Now 
I  perceive  here  is  some  great  matter,  but  thou  mayest 
pour  thy  tale  into  my  ears  as  if  I  were  a  deep  well 
beyond  the  reach  of  any  bucket  an  inquisitive  hand  may 
seek  to  lower  into  its  depths.  But  here  seems  a  likely 
place  of  retreat ;  the  accursed  Spaniards  —  by  thy  leave 
—  may  think  of  this  canal,  and  ply  up  and  down  its 
length  for  a  clew." 

"Thinkest  thou  there  is  this  danger,  sir?" 
"  I  think  so  indeed,  else  were  this  adventure  as  tame 
as   the   beasts   on  the    day  the   Garden  of  Eden   was 
opened  up  to  the  public." 

70 


FLIGHT    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

"  It  is  an  outlet  to  the  canal,"  said  the  maiden,  strain- 
ing her  eyes. 

"  Say,  rather,  an  inlet.  Let  us  row  up  this  branching 
path.  By  Belle-Isle !  it  goes  directly  under  yonder 
gloomy  building.  No  lights !  "  He  turned  the  boat, 
and  entered  the  narrow  channel  cautiously.  "  It  is  a 
strange  taste  that  finds  pleasure  in  a  stream  under  one's 
house,"  he  whispered.  "  But  it  is  a  lucky  taste  for  us  ! 
For  know,  lady-esquire,  that  my  bruised  foot  would 
rebel  against  much  work.  This  water  and  this  boat 
seem  to  have  been  put  into  juxtaposition  for  my 
especial  benefit.  Bend  low,  else  this  portal  will  do 
thee  injury.  How  fortunate  am  I,  to  find  this  hiding- 
place,  this  boat,  this  canal,  and  a  pretty  maiden  to  tell 
me  her  secret!  But  this  is  my  secret;  I  trust  to  God, 
fortune,  and  Belle-Isle,  and  trouble  not  my  soul  about 
the  outcome." 

"  Methinks  God  alone  might  stead  thee,  Belle-Isle." 

"  But  I  be  not  worthy  to  throw  myself  altogether 
upon  His  protection,"  said  the  Frenchman.  They  had 
passed  under  a  massive  stone  archway  which  came  down 
close  to  the  surface  of  the  water.  They  were  now  in 
complete  gloom.  The  air  was  heavy  with  the  damp- 
ness and  closeness  of  the  inclosure. 

"  If  we  had  a  light,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  but  it  would  be 
too  great  a  risk.  But  we  will  adventure  to  talk  together 
in  low  tones,  maiden,  and  so  pass  the  time." 

"  Not  so,  sir,  for  I  fear  there  may  be  listeners  in  this 
strange  house." 

"  In  truth,  lady-esquire,  I  would  as  lief  have  my  head 

71 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

lifted  off  my  shoulders  as  feel  my  tongue  itching  to 
rub  against  the  gentle  touch  of  speech,  yet  find  it  bound 
in  dumb  chains.  Talk  we  shall,  talk  we  must,  else 
how  may  I  endure  this  waiting?  And  how  else  mayest 
thou  tell  me  thy  story?  " 

"  Canst  thou  in  no  wise  excuse  the  telling?  " 

"  In  no  wise.  I  know  not  what  thou  art,  but  I  know 
Belle-Isle ;  and  he  hath  a  wish  to  live,  and  enjoy  !  " 

"  Alas  sir,  not  long  ago,  didst  not  tell  me  to  trust 
thee  through  life? 

"  I  know  not  how  it  is,"  he  said,  "  but  when  I  make  a 
promise,  no  man  could  feel  more  sure  of  keeping  the 
same.  It  must  be  that  my  fierce  intention  is  so  won- 
drous hot,  it  burns  itself  out  by  its  own  heat.  Now  tell 
me  thy  tale,  and  if  all  sounds  fair,  I  am  thy  knight. 
Convince  me,  and  I  will  in  some  wise  get  thee  to  thy 
abode.  But  otherwise  I  think  we  should  part.  For,  as 
I  said,  we  be  unmarried  folk,  and  young." 

"  Thou  wilt  not  trust  me,  Belle-Isle,  yet  I  must  throw 
myself  upon  thy  mercy  !  " 

"  That  is  different,  maiden.  We  take  men  for  granted, 
but  women  on  proof." 

"  Then, —  now,  canst  hear  my  voice?  " 

"  I  can,  by  coming  nearer.  Speak  no  louder,  lest  we 
be  overheard.  Let  us  set  our  heads  closer  together. 
Now." 

"  My  name  is  Rosamunda." 

"  A-  sweet  name,  as  far  as  it  goes,  Rosamunda." 

"  But  let  it  go  no  farther,  sir,  for  the  rest  is  my  father's 
secret." 

72 


FLIGHT    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

"  Let  us  have  the  whole  matter,  lady-esquire.  In  the 
sky  of  my  faith  must  swim  no  crescent,  but  a  full  round 
moon." 

"  Thou  art  cruel  to  force  me  to  buy  thy  favor  at 
this  price !  " 

"  But  I  think,"  he  answered  jauntily,  "  thou  hast  no 
other  market,  so  I  may  make  the  price  as  I  please." 

"  Then,  —  my  name  is  Rosamunda  de  Oviedo  y 
Valdez." 

"  Surely  this  name  is  large  enough  for  the  dress  of 
greatness !  But  I  shall  call  thee  Rosamunda.  That  is 
better  than  Senorita  de  Oviedo  y  Valdez ;  and  Rose  is 
better  than  Rosa;  and  sweetheart  is  better  —  I  pray 
thee  continue,  Rosamunda." 

"  I  trust  to  thy  honor  to  speak  no  word  of  love ;  and 
so  call  me  as  thou  mayest,  for  after  this  meeting  there 
will  be  no  second.  My  father  is  Gonzalvo  de  Oviedo  y 
Valdez,  one  of  the  greatest  grandees  of  Old  Castile,  the 
intimate  friend  of  the  Duke  of  Alva,  and  a  favorite  of 
the  King.  When  Alva  received  orders  to  march  hither 
with  his  army,  my  father  sold  all  his  lands  and  palaces, 
and  turned  his  back  upon  his  country  to  fight  against 
the  heretics." 

"  And  why,  lady?     Is  he  so  fond  of  war?  " 

"  Belle-Isle,  he  is,  before  everything  else  in  the  world, 
a  Catholic.  Before  love,  honor,  fidelity,  paternal  affec- 
tion, is  his  religion.  He  thinks  to  do  a  great  work  here 
for  Rome  and  God.  His  religion  is  a  passion,  and  its 
expression  is  the  scowl  of  hate  and  the  thrust  of  the 
blade.  He  is  a  haughty  Christian." 

73 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  A  bloody  Christian  truly  !  If  Christ  had  possessed 
many  such  followers  there  would  have  been  fewer  un- 
believers in  the  world.  I  cannot  say  if  there  would 
have  been  more  believers." 

"  This  land  of  sluices  and  dykes  is  cursed  by  infidel- 
ity," she  said.  "  Heresy  flouts  itself  in  every  street ;  the 
holy  mass  is  ridiculed ;  indulgences  are  held  of  no 
worth.  But  the  day  is  coming  for  the  wrath  of  God  and 
the  glory  of  his  church.  Better  a  land  blasted  by  war, 
with  only  vultures  and  ravens  to  disturb  the  silence, 
than  men  and  women  teaching  the  terrible  falsehoods 
of  the  Reformers." 

"  What  sayest  thou,  Rosamunda,  to  trying  another 
subject  ?  For  I  find  this  one  difficult  to  digest.  Why 
earnest  thou  in  man's  attire?" 

"  When  my  father  sold  his  possessions,  he  would  have 
sent  me  to  a  Carmelite  nunnery  to  take  the  veil.  I 
could  not  endure  such  a  fate.  A  life  of  devotion  is  not 
for  me,  Belle-Isle,  I  lack  the  courage." 

"Thou  art  right, — courage  is  a  good  word.  I  was 
two  years  in  a  monastery,  and  I  quailed  before  the  cold 
water  and  hard  crust,  more  than  I  ever  quailed  before 
the  sword  of  an  enemy.  So  thou  wouldst  not  be  a  nun  ?  " 

"There  was  but  one  alternative,  —  turn  soldier  and 
come  hither  to  slay  Calvinists  and  Lutherans  and  miser- 
able anabaptists,  and  the  like  rank  growth  of  mortal 
weeds.  I  have  no  relation  in  all  Spain.  And  my 
father,  —  thou  canst  not  think  how  fierce  a  Christian  he 
is,  how  steeled  his  heart !  When  I  elected  to  come  as 
his  esquire,  that  was  the  first  time  he  had  smiled  upon 

74 


FLIGHT    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

me  for  many  a  day.     Thus  only  did  I  escape  being  a 
nun." 

"  I  am  right  glad  thou  art  no  nun,  fair  Rosamunda, 
but  I  cannot  think  thou  wilt  ever  make  a  good  soldier. 
Sweet  lady,  hast  the  heart  to  plunge  a  sword  into  the 
bosom  of  any  man?  " 

"  Ay,  indeed,  if  he  be  a  rebellious  heretic,  an  enemy 
of  the  Lord  God  and  King  Philip.  When  I  put  out  the 
light  of  such  a  noxious  curse  to  religion,  the  very  saints 
will  clap  their  hands,  and  the  Blessed  Son  of  Mary  will 
for  an  instant  cease  to  feel  the  agony  of  the  nails  in  his 
hands  and  feet." 

"  But  look  thou,  Rosamunda.  When  thou  puttest 
forth  thy  sword  and  thrustest  it  into  the  breasts  of  these 
Netherlanders,  knowest  thou  not  that  they  will  inconti- 
nently suffer  a  grievous  pain?" 

"  They  will  suffer  no  pain  equal  to  the  pain  they 
deserve !  By  their  living,  do  they  not  spread  horrible 
falsehoods?  Evil  rides  upon  their  breath  as  black 
clouds  are  buoyed  up  by  the  wind." 

"  But  reflect,  Rosamunda.  Thy  sword  will  make 
many  a  wife  a  widow,  and  many  a  maid  an  orphan. 
What  have  they  done  to  deserve  thy  cruel  hate?" 

"  Now  thou  speakest  as  no  true  Catholic,  Belle-Isle. 
Do  not  the  women  nourish  in  their  hearts  the  rebellion 
of  their  husbands  and  the  mischievous  doctrines  of  their 
fathers?  Do  they  not  despise  Rome  and  rebel  against 
Spain?  " 

"What  do  I  know  about  these  women,  Rosamunda? 
I  am  a  Frenchman,  but  newly  come  hither." 

75 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  I  knew  them  wert  no  true  part  of  this  stolid  and 
benighted  people.  I  distinguished  thee  from  all  the 
rest  as  I  rode  behind  my  father  in  the  army.  I  saw 
thee  sitting  in  the  cart,  ragged  and  wayworn,  but  with 
that  in  thy  face  too  nimble  for  a  Dutchman.  I  felt  for 
thee,  seeing  thee  in  such  dangerous  company.  So  I 
held  up  my  finger  in  warning.  And  that  meant :  '  Flee, 
join  the  Spaniards,  or  quit  the  land  !  For  a  terrible 
blow  is  about  to  fall  upon  this  accursed  people !  ' 

"  Rosamunda  !  My  blood  turns  cold  when  thou  sayest 
such  fearful  words  in  so  soft  a  whisper.  What  a  small 
maiden,  with  so  great  a  hate !  But  those  with  whom  I 
consorted,  I  met  them  by  chance,  are  Catholics  born 
and  bred." 

"  They  call  themselves  so,  Belle-Isle.  They  may  even 
believe  themselves  true  children  of  Rome  and  God.  But 
they  will  not  have  our  blessed  Inquisition,  till  an  army 
come  hither  to  force  it  upon  them.  They  are  willing 
for  Reformers  to  hold  camp-meetings,  and  even  have 
heretical  churches  within  city  walls.  Now  what  kind  of 
Catholics  are  these?  Belle-Isle,  art  thou  a  Catholic?" 

"  What  a  question  is  this,  Rosamunda !  I  pray  thee, 
wherein  have  I  given  thee  cause  to  doubt?  " 

"  When  I  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  why  didst  not 
follow  suit?" 

"  I  make  my  signs  of  the  cross  when  and  where  I 
choose,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  with  thy  pardon.  Now  let  us 
not  talk  of  these  things.  Why  didst  roam  the  streets  of 
Brussels  at  night  when  an  Oviedo  should  be  in  her 
boudoir?  We  do  not  even  know  in  what  sort  of  a  place 

76 


FLIGHT    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

we  now  rest.  However,  when  thou  hast  told  me  all,  I 
will  make  what  shift  I  can'  to  get  thee  home." 

"  Then  hear  it  all,  unkind  Belle-Isle  !  I  tired  of  man's 
attire  in  which  I  had  been  so  long.  I  purchased  a 
woman's  dress,  as  it  were  for  a  gift  to  one  of  the  maids. 
I  donned  this  attire,  veiled  myself,  and  felt  my  heart 
leap  up,  as  if  it  had  thrown  off  heavy  chains.  I  was  a 
woman  once  more,  and  I  had  a  mind  to  go  out  into  the 
world  and  forget  that  I  must  be  a  soldier.  Those 
Spanish  damsels  who  came  with  us  go  when  and  where 
they  please,  with  as  much  freedom  and  unconcern  as  if 
they  were  men.  I  thought  I  could  do  as  they;  but 
scarce  had  I  left  Madame  de  Jasse's  when  I  found  myself 
followed  by  three  men.  They  mistook  me  for  a  mean 
creature,  and  made  chase.  I  might  have  regained  the 
house,  but  they  were  in  the  way,  and  one  of  them  was 
—  he  was  my  father !  The  one  they  called  Gonzalvo, 
who  beat  upon  the  door." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Belle-Isle  remarked 
dryly,  "  Thy  father  is  a  merry  gentleman !  " 

"  Now,"  said  Rosamunda  very  slowly,  "  I  might  as 
well  be  dead  as  have  him  learn  I  have  broken  my 
promise  to  keep  in  male  attire.  If  he  learn  that  I  am 
the  woman  he  pursued,  he  will  believe  I  have  often 
donned  a  woman's  dress.  When  his  suspicion  is 
aroused,  it  never  dies  till  it  strikes  its  blow." 

"  I  envy  thy  father  his  daughter,"  observed  Belle-Isle, 
"  but  not  thee  thy  father.  I  think,  then,  thou  hast  had  a 
hard  life,  poor  girl !  " 

"  Yes,  Belle-Isle,  and  that  has  made  me  hard.  For 

77 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

there  is  as  little  mercy  in  my  heart  for  these  unfaithful 
heretics  as  there  is  in  my  father's  bosom.  If  he  is 
hard,  so  am  I.  Yet  often  I  would  relax  in  certain  ways, 
and  forget  my  mission  in  the  world,  and  play  in  the 
sunshine  of  bright  thoughts.  But  there  is  no  one  for  my 
pleasure.  I  have  had  only  my  father.  And  his  spirit, 
even  in  sleep,  wears  its  armor  with  a  sword  at  its  side." 

"  I  would  I  could  be  thy  father  for  awhile,"  said  the 
young  man.  "  I  would  put  laughter  and  love  into  that 
hard  heart  of  thine,  and  chase  out  every  shadow  of  hate 
and  disdain.  What  art  thou,  to  go  through  the  world 
glooming  at  the  earth  that  God  makes  smile  into  thine 
eyes  ?  " 

"  The  earth  is  fair,  senor,  —  but  the  men  who  walk 
upon  its  surface  !  Nay,  I  have  my  mission  in  the  world, 
a  dark  and  terrible,  but  a  noble  mission :  to  sweep  from 
God's  fair  world  the  curse  of  heresy.  But  now  I  have 
told  thee  my  life.  Redeem  thy  word  and  take  me 
hence." 

"  I  will  save  thee  immediately,  Rosamunda.  Bow  low 
in  the  boat  and  we  will  issue  into  the  canal  once  more." 

"  But  hark,  Belle-Isle  !     What  is  that?  " 

Belle-Isle  listened  intently,  then  whispered,  "  What 
should  it  be  but  a  boat  coming  up  the  canal?  All  I 
marvel  at  is  that  it  did  not  come  sooner." 

"  Dear  saints  of  Heaven  !  "  she  moaned.  "  What, 
now,  is  my  fate?  Oh,  why  didst  tarry  so  long?" 

"  In  truth,  maiden,  I  knew  not  where  to  go,  or  I 
would  have  gone  willingly  enough.  Hush !  They 
draw  near." 

78 


FLIGHT    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

"  They  have  stopped,"  whispered  Rosamunda. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Frenchman.  The  sound  of  oars  was 
now  heard  at  the  opening  of  the  inclosure. 

"  They  may  be  in  here,"  said  a  harsh  voice. 

"  I  would  they  were  in  — " 

"  Nay,  comrade,"  interrupted  the  first  speaker,  "  be 
not  so  uncharitable." 

"  I  was  only  about  to  say  Purgatory,"  returned  the 
second  speaker. 

"  Why,  ay,  then  so  do  I  wish  them  there,  with  all 
my  heart !  " 

Belle-Isle  seized  Rosamunda's  arm  and  whispered, 
while  his  lips  touched  her  veil,  "  They  are  my  friends." 

"  Let  us  light  a  match,"  said  a  third  voice. 

"  Nay,  good  Jan,  lest  it  be  seen  by  our  enemies.  I 
will  see  with  my  ears."  Then,  raising  his  voice,  the 
speaker  called  cautiously,  "  Be  there  any  frog-eating 
Frenchman  in  this  cavern  with  a  damsel  at  his  side  in 
lieu  of  a  sword? " 

"  The  Frenchman  and  the  damsel  are  here,"  answered 
Belle-Isle  from  his  boat,  "  and  it  is  very  true  there  is  no 
sword,  Bilder  Kopperzoon,  else  would  there  be  no  talk 
of  frog-eating." 

"  We  are  well  met,"  said  the  voice  of  Hans.  "  All 
five  safe  and  sound,  and  ready  to  fall  to  blows." 

"  Talk  not  of  blows,"  said  the  voice  of  Jan  Janssen, 
as  his  boat  drew  alongside  the  other.  "  When  our 
enemies  have  reinforced  themselves,  they  will  certainly 
come  into  this  nest,  since  we  could  not  pass  it  by. 
Quick  and  away,  with  no  words  !  " 

79 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Good  gentlemen,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  this  lady  is  to  the 
palace  of  a  certain  Madame  de  Jasse.  If  any  of  you 
can  show  us  thither,  I  will  load  him  with  riches." 

"Indeed?"  said  Hans.  "And  what  riches  dost 
thou  bear  in  the  pockets  of  another  man's  suit  of 
clothes?" 

"  My  riches  be  not  in  men's  pockets,"  returned  the 
other.  "  Nay,  I  will  enrich  our  guide  with  the  priceless 
gift  of  sincere  gratitude.  Friends,  this  damsel  is  a  true 
lady,  the  daughter  of  a  hidalgo ;  it  was  her  misfortune, 
not  her  purpose,  that  set  her  at  the  head  of  a  chase  of 
love." 

"  That  is  another  matter,"  said  Hans.  "  For  the 
honor  of  any  maiden  I  would  sink  into  an  adventure 
up  to  my  throat.  But  as  for  thy  gratitude,  keep  it  to 
warm  thy  bare  back  when  thou  art  given  thy  proper 
rags,  and  Hendrik  hath  his  jerkin  again." 

"  Let  who  will,  ride  forth  with  me,"  said  Jan,  with 
a  huge  contempt  for  words. 

"  I  am  with  thee,"  said  Bilder.  Hans  climbed  into 
the  boat  that  held  Belle-Isle  and  Rosamunda.  Jan 
rowed  away. 

"  Now  the  oars  to  me,"  said  Hans.  "  I  know  this 
place  as  I  know  the  part  of  my  hair."  They  went  for- 
ward a  short  distance,  then  the  boat  grated  against  some 
object.  "  Here  we  alight,"  said  Hans.  "  Have  no 
fear;  it  is  a  goodly  stone  landing  that  will  not  shake 
though  so  great  a  man  as  Belle-Isle  hobble  upon  it. 
Steps  lead  up  from  this  landing-place  to  a  door  that 
opens  into  the  first  story  of  a  great  palace.  We  will 

80 


FLIGHT    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

pass  through  this  same  palace,  and  gain  the  street,  and 
fare  forth  to  our  Madame  de  Jasse." 

"  But  is  this  palace  empty,  good  Hans?" 

"  Empty?  Is  a  palace  an  empty  box  to  be  cast  upon 
the  roadside  and  left  for  ants  to  crawl  therein  after 
crumbs  ungarnered?  Ach !  I  warrant  it  is  full  of 
servants,  —  guests,  belike  ;  for  there  is  always  merriment 
going  forward  in  this  palace." 

"  But  indeed,  Hans,  no  one  must  see  this  maiden. 
An  her  father  hear  of  her,  he  will  eat  glass,  and  crush 
iron  bolts  between  his  fingers.  And  no  more  do  I  wish 
to  be  observed  slipping  through  another  man's  palace." 

"  Fear  not,  —  I  know  a  safe  passage.  Besides,  this 
is  our  only  hope  to  gain  the  street.  By  this  time  the 
canal  is  watched  by  many  eyes.  It  is  this  palace,  — 
or  an  escape  into  some  hidden  nook,  where  there  could 
be  no  outlet  into  the  street." 

"Rosamunda,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "wouldst  not 
rather  lie  safe  in  a  hidden  nook  than  venture  into  this 
merry  palace?" 

"  As  God  lives,  Belle-Isle,  I  must  reach  home  before 
morning,  or  my  father  will  learn  all,  and  I  am  lost !  " 

"  Come  !  "  said  Hans.  "  Up  these  steps  with  you, 
friends,  and  slip  not.  I  will  go  before.  It  would  now 
be  as  dangerous  to  return  to  the  canal  as  to  enter  this 
palace." 

"  I  fear  only  for  Rosamunda,"  said  Belle-Isle.  "  By 
my  own  good  name,  my  heart  is  mightily  lifted  up  by 
this  knightly  venture !" 

6  81 


Chapter  Five 

THE  DASH  THROUGH  THE  PALACE 

BELLE-ISLE,  holding  Rosamunda's  hand,  felt 
his  way  after  Hans  Foot  up  the  wet  stone  stairs 
that  led  from  the  boat-landing.     Presently  he 
whispered,  "  There  is  one  thing  I  do  not  un- 
derstand, maiden.    Thou  seemest  to  be  in  no  wise  uneasy 
lest  thy  merry  father  may  have  fallen  a  victim  in  the 
fray.     Yet  it  may  be  —  " 

"  Nay,"  she  answered,  "  I  saw  him  make  his  escape. 
One  of  thy  friends  fought  with  three  nobles ;  two  fell. 
The  other,  my  father,  leaped  away  and  gained  the  door, 
just  as  the  lights  were  blown  out.  But  dost  thou  think 
God  sent  him  into  this  country  to  fall  under  the  blade 
of  a  heretic?" 

"  As  to  God's  intentions,  I  have  my  own  opinions," 
said  the  other.  "  My  opinions  may  not  be  so  wise  as 
another's,  but  I  like  them  better  because  they  are  my 
own.  Now,  what  a  little  hand  is  this  I  find  in  mine. 
I  think  four  kisses  would  measure  it  from  tip  to  wrist. 
Gentle  lady,  suffer  me  to  measure  it  now." 

Rosamunda  snatched  away  her  hand.  "  Thou  wouldst 
never  speak  these  words  to  me,  were  I  in  my  father's 
palace,"  she  said  haughtily. 

82 


DASH    THROUGH    THE    PALACE 

"  Now  what  geese  are  these,  cackling  at  my  heels  ?  " 
said  Hans  in  a  harsh  whisper.  "  You  come  unto  this 
place  billing  and  cooing  as  if  it  were  in  your  own  dove- 
cote. A  murrain  on  your  tongues! " 

Rosamunda  slipped. 

"  Give  me  thy  hand  again,"  whispered  Belle-Isle, 
bending  over  her,  "  and  I  will  hold  it  as  gingerly  as  it 
were  the  tail  of  a  lizard.  I  cannot  have  thee  falling 
upon  thy  adorable  knees  in  this  fashion,  lest  harm  come 
to  this  sweet  body." 

"  Speak  not  thus  to  the  daughter  of  de  Oviedo  y 
Valdez !  " 

"  Now  this  is  more  adventure  than  I  reckoned  for," 
muttered  Hans  to  himself.  "  I  would  Bilder  were  here 
to  tell  me  what  to  do  with  these  prating  fools.  Me- 
thinks  he  would  even  bump  their  heads  together  and 
bring  stars  to  their  eyes  even  as  the  flame  of  speech 
runneth  along  their  tongues  !  " 

"  Nay,  Rosamunda,  come,  give  me  thy  hand,  and  I 
will  never  say  the  image  of  thy  exquisite  features  is 
stamped  forever  upon  my  heart." 

"I  have  a  mind,"  whispered  Hans,  grasping  his 
shoulder,  "  to  stamp  a  cuff  upon  thy  ear.  I  am  about 
to  open  the  door.  Beware  !  " 

"  Here  is  my  hand,"  whispered  Rosamunda.  "  It  is  a 
trust,  Belle-Isle.  Protect  me." 

Hans  pushed  open  a  door  built  in  the  floor  of  the 
palace.  They  came  up  through  the  opening,  seeing 
nothing.  Their  feet  left  the  stone  stairs,  and  trod  a 
wooden  floor.  Hans  thrust  into  Belle-Isle's  hand  the 

83 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

end  of  a  handkerchief.  Holding  the  other  end,  the 
Hollander  passed  stealthily  forward,  thus  without  speech 
or  sound  guiding  the  others.  There  came  to  them  the 
sound  of  music  and  dancing.  Belle-Isle  felt  the  hand  of 
Rosamunda  tremble  with  apprehension.  Hans,  who 
knew  the  way  thoroughly,  led  them  without  pause  till  he 
reached  a  door.  A  faint  light  glimmered  through  its 
keyhole.  Hans  stood  still,  either  to  listen  or  to  reflect. 
Every  step  had  brought  them  nearer  the  sound  of  rev- 
elry, and  now  they  could  distinguish  the  air  that 
directed  the  dancers. 

Hans  felt  for  Belle-Isle's  arm,  and  drew  the  head  of 
the  Frenchman  close  to  his  lips.  "  Hist,  stranger,"  he 
growled,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  whisper  softly.  "  This 
passage  is  our  only  chance,  and  it  is  lighted  up ;  I  never 
found  it  so  before.  Would  to  Heaven  Bilder  were  here 
to  tell  us  what  to  do  !  " 

Belle-Isle  drew  away,  not  in  perplexity,  but  to  get  his 
over-sensitive  ear  away  from  the  bristling  whiskers  of  his 
wild  guide.  Hans  dragged  him  closer  again.  "  Cast 
thy  vote.  Shall  we  venture  into  the  lighted  passage- 
way, or  slip  to  some  safe  cellar  for  the  night?  " 

"  It  shall  rest  with  the  maiden,"  answered  Belle-Isle. 
He  whispered  the  question  to  Rosamunda. 

"  I  must  reach  home  before  daylight,"  she  said.  "  Oh, 
I  cannot,  cannot  think  of  retreat.  For  God's  sake, 
Belle-Isle,  in  memory  of  the  wounds  of  his  Blessed  Son, 
take  me  to  the  home  of  Madame  de  Jasse,  though  it  be 
through  fire !  My  father  is  a  terrible  man,  and  I  am 
ruined  if  he  discover  the  truth." 

84 


DASH    THROUGH    THE    PALACE 

"  Stop  her,"  growled  Hans.  "  She  will  have  all  the 
roisterers  here  in  a  moment !  " 

"We  will  go  forward,"  said  Belle-Isle. 

Without  a  word  Hans  opened  the  door  and  they 
entered  a  long  narrow  hallway  whose  walls  were  of 
massive  stone.  Lights  hung  along  the  way.  There  was 
no  furniture  in  the  apartment.  It  was  the  first  time 
these  three  had  been  given  an  opportunity  to  see  each 
other  since  the  conflict  in  Hendrik  Janssen's  house. 
Hans,  who  went  before,  did  not  trouble  himself  to  take 
advantage  of  this  chance.  The  sound  of  laughter,  music, 
and  hearty  voices,  mingled  with  the  rattle  of  dishes.  A 
feast  was  in  progress.  Hans  bent  all  his  mind  upon  the 
thought  of  reaching  the  farther  end  of  the  hall  before  one 
of  the  side  doors  should  be  thrown  open.  Belle-Isle  and 
Rosamunda  walking  behind  him,  no  longer  needing  the 
handkerchief  for  a  guide,  had  full  time  to  observe  the  Hol- 
land Wolf.  Belle-Isle,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  the  wild 
appearance  of  Hans,  was  startled  by  this  sudden  lighting 
up  of  the  barbarous  picture.  Towering  high  above  them, 
with  wide  shoulders  and  long  legs,  yet  not  too  long  for 
that  great  body,  Hans  crept  forward  upon  enormous 
bare  feet.  He  held  his  sword  drawn,  and  his  ear  tilted, 
thus  giving  them  a  glimpse  of  one  red  eye  twinkling 
behind  a  forest  of  umbrageous  whiskers. 

Belle-Isle  preserved  his  usual  attitude  of  an  erect  back 
and  a  head  tilted  up  as  if  to  catch  the  light.  One  swift 
glance  had  shown  him  Hans  in  all  his  picturesque  out- 
lines. After  that,  the  Frenchman's  attention  was  devoted 
to  the  lady  by  his  side.  Conscious  as  he  was  of  the  fearful 

85 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

danger  that  surrounded  them,  he  could  not  be  disturbed, 
for  he  had  a  pretty  woman  to  think  about.  She  was 
defended  from  his  gaze  by  that  heavy  veil  which  had 
disguised  her  from  her  father.  But  Belle-Isle  remem- 
bered the  perfection  of  her  features,  and  his  imagination 
looked  straight  through  the  veil  and  kissed  her  cheeks. 
There  was  no  disguising  the  exquisite  and  aristocratic 
form  and  bearing,  the  feet  that  must  have  travelled  many 
a  league  before  they  could  have  found  their  equal  in  all 
the  Low  Countries,  and  the  delicate  hands,  each  ringer 
stronger  than  a  dungeon  to  hold  prisoner  his  heart.  So 
as  he  walked  beside  her,  Hendrik's  slippers  making  no 
sound,  he  scarce  limped  once,  for  he  had  forgotten  his 
wound.  Filled  as  his  mind  was  with  pleasure  in  this 
moment,  he  could  not  be  content.  It  was  not  enough  to 
remember  how  she  once  looked.  Nay,  he  must  see  her 
again.  They  were  near  one  of  the  torches  that  threw  its 
red  glare  from  a  sconce  in  the  wall. 

Suddenly  he  stepped  in  front  of  her,  turned  about,  and 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand  that  entreated  permission,  lifted 
her  veil,  and  drew  it  back  over  the  Persian  shawl  that 
covered  her  head.  Then  with  a  slight  push  upon  her 
shoulder,  he  turned  her  about  so  the  light  could  flood 
her  face.  She  met  his  eyes  without  flinching,  nor  did 
she  make  any  effort  to  replace  the  disguise. 

He  looked  into  a  proud  cold  face,  the  features  set  in 
a  haughty  frame  of  deep  reserve.  Her  brilliant  black 
eyes  shone  upon  him  as  if  he  were  immeasurably  beneath 
her  in  rank  and  interest.  She  noted  his  handsome  face, 
and  the  pure  white  neck  which  had  not  been  sunburned, 

86 


With  a  wave  of  his  hand  that  entreated  permission  " 


and  which  rose  like  a  marble  column  from  Hendrik's 
rude  coat.  But  his  beauty  did  not  appear  to  move  her 
to  admiration.  Upon  her  dark  face  —  and  her  complex- 
ion was  as  dark  as  it  was  soft  —  there  seemed  to  rest  a 
calm  scorn.  Her  eyes  looked  into  his,  but  they  were 
steady,  clear,  emotionless.  Her  lips  wore  that  curl  of 
superiority  that  was  half  disdain,  which  he  had  admired 
in  the  esquire  of  the  Spanish  army.  She  seemed  to 
place  him  in  a  position  of  helpless  inferiority,  to  set  an 
immeasurable  distance  between  them.  The  very  hollows 
in  her  swarthy  satin  cheeks  —  those  cheeks  so  mobile,  so 
brown,  so  wonderfully  shaped,  the  little  hollows  where, 
it  seemed,  Love  must  have  kissed  her  as  she  slept  —  held 
him  aloof.  She  was  using  his  friendship  now  because  she 
must.  From  this  night  they  would  be  strangers  because 
she  would  wish  it  so,  because  she  held  him  and  his 
simple  friends  beneath  the  value  of  her  memory. 

These  thoughts  came  to  him  with  the  first  long  look 
into  her  face.  In  truth  that  look  was  not  very  long, 
measured  in  the  coin  of  every-day  time.  But  the  heart 
has  a  time  of  its  own,  that  drags  or  leaps  with  the 
pauses  and  the  thrills  of  life.  Hans,  little  dreaming  they 
could  be  guilty  of  such  folly  as  to  linger  beside  the  torch 
with  the  enemy's  door  just  opposite,  had  crept  on  up  the 
hall,  and  now  paused  at  its  farther  door.  He  casually 
blinked  his  red  eyes  over  his  shoulder.  No  Frenchman  ; 
no  Spanish  maid.  He  turned  about.  There  they  stood 
before  the  torch,  with  her  veil  thrown  over  her  bright 
head-dress,  and  Belle-Isle  staring  into  her  face.  Hans 
glared  with  unspeakable  fury,  not  daring  to  utter  a 

87 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

sound.     The  door  opposite  the  silent  pair  opened.     A 
head  was  thrust  into  the  hall. 

Belle-Isle,  while  gazing  intently  into  Rosamunda's 
face,  became  aware  of  another  presence.  He  turned 
and  saw  the  head  looking  through  the  partly-opened 
door.  With  swift  fingers  Rosamunda  pulled  down  the 
veil  over  her  face.  The  intruder  held  the  door  in  such 
a  way  that  it  hid  from  him  the  wild  form  of  Hans  Foot. 
Hans  stood  rigid  with  surprise  at  this  sudden  entrance 
of  one  whom  he  could  not  see,  but  whose  part  in  the 
drama  could  hardly  be  a  friendly  one.  He  felt  not  only 
surprise  but  impotent  rage  because  the  Frenchman  had 
thrown  away  his  chance  of  safety  for  a  look  into  a 
woman's  face. 

The  head  was  that  of  a  Spanish  soldier.  It  appeared 
to  be  a  head  that  travelled  as  slowly  through  thought 
as  it  did  through  space.  It  remained  motionless,  the 
eyes  fastened  upon  Belle-Isle  and  the  maiden.  Hans 
now  did  a  thing  he  had  never  done  before,  but  he  was 
prompted  by  his  anger :  he  deserted  his  comrades  in 
danger.  He  slipped  through  the  end-door  which  he 
had  already  opened,  and  drew  it  to  after  him,  saying  in 
his  irate  soul  that  the  Frenchman  had  brought  this 
trouble  upon  himself,  and  now  let  him  get  out  of  it  as 
he  might !  In  the  meantime  Belle-Isle  had  not  been 
standing  idle.  At  his  first  glance  toward  the  unexpected 
apparition,  he  had  formed  his  plan  of  action. 

"  I  can  save  thee,  Rosamunda,"  he  whispered. 
"  Promise  thou  wilt  come  to  me  when  next  I  send  for 
thee." 

88 


DASH    THROUGH    THE    PALACE 

"  If  I  can,"  she  answered. 

"  Nay,  say  thou  wilt,  on  the  crucifix,"  whispered  the 
young  man,  whose  heart  had  been  strangely  moved  by 
the  look  of  haughty  superiority  which  he  had  read  upon 
her  face.  "  Say  thou  wilt  come  to  me,  or,  by  Belle-Isle, 
here  is  an  end  of  our  story !  " 

"  Sir,  for  the  love  of  the  Blessed  Mother  of  God  —  " 

"  Thou  wilt  come  to  me  ?  " 

A  low  voice  spoke  in  the  apartment  adjoining  them. 
It  was  addressed  to  the  soldier  who  stood  blinking  in 
the  doorway.  "Why  dost  thou  pause,  fool?  Lead 
on!" 

"  My  God,  Belle-Isle !  "  whispered  Rosamunda,  seiz- 
ing his  arm  convulsively,  "  that  was  my  father's  voice  !  " 

"  And  wilt  come  to  me,  when  I  send  for  thee?  " 

"  I  will  come,  as  I  hope  for  heaven !  " 

Belle-Isle  turned  to  the  soldier  in  the  doorway.  "  Is 
the  master  ready  for  us?  "  he  inquired  politely. 

"Why,  —  ay,  he  is  ready,"  said  a  stern  voice  behind 
the  speaker.  The  man  in  the  doorway  was  pushed  into 
the  hall,  and  he  was  at  once  followed  by  Gonzalvo  de 
Oviedo  y  Valdez. 

"  It  is  a  mystery  play,  an  it  please  your  lordship," 
said  Belle-Isle  with  a  bow.  "  Shall  we  begin  at  once?  " 

"  Cristoval,"  said  Gonzalvo,  winking  his  eyes  as  one 
who  has  been  a  long  time  in  darkness.  "  By  the  bones 
of  the  saints,  here  is  the  woman  who  led  us  such  a 
chase !  " 

"  Is  it  so,  my  lord  ?  Then  a  murrain  upon  her,  for 
my  good  comrade  Don  Antonio  was  slain  for  her  sake  !  " 

89 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Gonzalvo  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"  Gentles,  what  be  these  wild  words?  "  said  Belle-Isle. 
"  Know  ye  not  we  be  sent  for,  to  make  entertainment 
in  the  palace?  Know  ye  not  I  be  in  the  guild  of  rhet- 
oric known  the  world  over  as  the  White  Columbine  of 
Leyden?  We  wait  till  the  master  hath  feasted,  to  recite 
choice  poems  to  his  company." 

"  Now  whatever  thou  art,"  said  Gonzalvo,  drawing 
his  sword,  "  thou  hast  sued  death  in  helping  this  Spanish 
woman  to  escape." 

"  My  lord,"  said  Cristoval,  "  they  are  good  words. 
Let  us  trust  to  them  and  not  stop  to  lay  a  deed  beside 
them.  Thou  hast  no  time,  my  lord,  to  trifle  with  women. 
Let  us  get  hence,  my  lord.  Here  is  a  fearsome  delay." 

"  I  know  no  fear  but  the  fear  of  being  outdone. 
Draw,  fellow,  and  let  us  see  to  whom  is  this  jade." 

"  My  dear  lord,  let  us  get  hence.  Thou  hast  two 
thousand  women  to  pick  from.  Belike  this  is  some 
shrewish,  haggard  wench,  yellow  and  bewrinkled.  And 
as  for  righting  this  fool,  is  not  the  city  full  of  accursed 
Dutch  ?  Thy  sword  will  not  draw  more  blood  from  one 
than  from  another." 

"  In  faith,  my  lord,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  I  would  gladly 
draw,  had  I  a  sword  wherewith  to  pleasure  thee.  I  have 
only  a  dagger,  but  I  do  not  wear  thy  heavy  armor. 
Come  on,  then,  gallant  sir ;  I  can  leap  out  of  thy  way, 
and  cut  thy  throat  all  in  time  for  good  Cristoval,  who 
seems  in  something  of  a  hurry." 

"  Thus  for  a  vile  heretic !  "  cried  Gonzalvo,  rushing 
forward. 

90 


DASH    THROUGH    THE    PALACE 

"  Away  !  "  cried  Belle-Isle  to  Rosamunda.  "  Follow 
Hans !  "  As  he  spoke  he  stood  ready  for  the  onset. 

Rosamunda  fled  up  the  hall. 

Gonzalvo  made  a  lunge  at  Belle-Isle.  The  Frenchman, 
who  had  crouched  as  in  fear,  but  in  reality  for  a  definite 
purpose,  gave  an  agile  leap  along  the  wall,  and  not  only 
escaped  the  venomous  thrust,  but  tore  from  the  sconce 
the  lighted  torch.  Wheeling  about  before  the  Spaniard 
could  entirely  recover  from  the  impetus  which  carried 
his  body  forward,  Belle-Isle  rushed  upon  him  with  the 
torch  in  one  hand  and  his  dagger  in  the  other.  Rosa- 
munda, who  had  almost  gained  the  door,  gave  a  wild 
scream  of  horror.  Footsteps  were  heard  running. 
Cristoval  struck  at  Belle-Isle  savagely  with  his  sword. 
At  the  same  time,  Gonzalvo  threw  forward  his  blade  to 
pierce  the  breast  of  his  enemy.  His  sword  was  struck 
from  his  hand  by  the  unwary  stroke  of  Cristoval. 

"  Traitor  !  "  cried  Gonzalvo,  glaring  at  his  friend  in  a 
fury. 

"  Nay,  good  my  lord,"  remonstrated  the  disconcerted 
warrior. 

Belle-Isle  flung  the  torch  into  Cristoval's  face  and 
raised  his  dagger  over  Gonzalvo's  neck,  as  the  latter 
stooped  for  his  sword.  The  flame  from  the  torch  swept 
away  Cristoval's  eyelashes  and  eyebrows  in  a  flash, 
burned  a  path  through  his  beard  and  filled  the  air  with 
an  odor  of  burning  hair. 

"  My  lord,"  said  Belle-Isle  to  Gonzalvo,  "  receive  thy 
death  wound." 

"  Belle-Isle  !  "  cried  Rosamunda. 

91 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  True !  "  said  the  Frenchman,  replacing  his  dagger 
in  his  breast,  and  running  to  Rosamunda.  "  Come, 
away !  "  The  hall  began  to  fill  with  men.  "  What  is 
this?"  cried  different  voices.  "What  is  burning?" 
"Who  goes  there?"  All  was  perplexity,  astonishment. 
It  was  evident  that  the  presence  of  the  Spaniards  in  the 
palace  had  been  as  little  suspected  as  that  of  Hans 
and  his  companions.  Belle-Isle  seized  Rosamunda's 
hand  and  ran  with  her  out  of  the  hall.  They  were  in 
darkness. 

"Now  will  ye  come?"  demanded  the  voice  of  Hans 
fiercely.  "  This  is  your  last  chance,"  he  added,  barring 
the  door  that  they  might  not  be  immediately  pursued. 

They  followed  him  quickly  through  another  door  out 
into'  the  street.  The  sound  of  blows  upon  the  bolted 
door  came  to  them.  The  street  was  deserted.  "  This 
way,"  said  Hans  surlily.  "  I  would  I  belonged  to  the 
other  party,  that  I  might  run  you  down  for  a  pair  of 
fools !  " 

"  Now  look  thou,  Hans  Foot,"  said  Belle-Isle,  darting 
into  an  alley  with  Rosamunda  as  the  Hollander  led  the 
way,  "  thou  hast  stood  us  in  good  stead,  but  by  Belle- 
Isle,  thou  canst  not  think  with  what  little  joy  I  hear  my- 
self called  ungentle  words !" 

"  I  would  thou  mightst  choke  of  them,"  said  Hans. 

"Do  we  go  toward  Madame  de  Jasse's?"  inquired 
Rosamunda  breathlessly. 

"  Ay,"  said  Hans  crossly. 

"What  sayest  thou,  Hans,"  said  Belle-Isle;  "when 
the  maid  is  safe  at  home,  let  us  fight,  thee  and  me." 

92 


DASH    THROUGH    THE    PALACE 

"  A  good  thought,"  said  the  other,  picking  up  more 
spirit.  "  Belle-Isle,  thou  art  a  good  fellow,  after  all. 
Down  this  way  to  avoid  pursuit.  Then  up  yonder 
lighted  thoroughfare,  making  as  if  it  belonged  to  us. 
Canst  swagger,  Belle-Isle  ?  " 

"  Yea,  by  St.  Denis !  " 

"Then  swagger!  for  there  is  no  surer  way  of  getting 
through  the  world.  Thou  art  a  good  fellow,  Belle-Isle." 

"  Thou  knowest,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "  I  could  not 
suffer  thee  to  call  me  a  fool." 

"  Of  a  surety.  There  is  no  other  way.  Now,  I 
promised  Wilhelmina  not  to  injure  thee,  but  this  is  a 
forced  thing ;  it  could  not  be  otherwise.  I  could  not  but 
call  thee  a  fool,  it  was  a  thing  so  manifest  to  God  and 
man ;  thou  canst  not  but  resent  the  epithet.  We  be 
near  the  nesting  place,  wench." 

"Lady,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  remember  the  oath.  The 
first  time  I  send  for  thee,  be  it  rain  or  shine,  be  it  in  war 
or  in  peace,  to  me  thou  comest." 

"  I  will  keep  my  oath,  sir,  and  I  must  trust  thee,  as  a 
true  knight,  not  to  abuse  that  forced  oath." 

They  reached  the  palace.  Rosamunda  passed  through 
the  great  arch  without  a  word  of  farewell. 

"  Now !  "  said  Hans,  grasping  the  other's  arm  with 
savage  glee.  "  Now,  —  ha  !  ha  !  Now  for  the  duel !  " 

"  Let  us  fight  before  the  entrance,"  said  the  Frenchman. 
"  Here  is  a  smooth  paving.  Belike  she  will  come  out 
and  look  upon  my  body,  an  I  fall.  Get  me  a  sword, 
good  Hans."  Suddenly  Belle-Isle  sank  in  a  heap  upon 
the  stones. 

93 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  What  thing  is  this?"  demanded  Hans  roughly. 

"  It  is  my  rebellious  foot,"  said  Belle-Isle  with  sudden 
weakness.  "  As  I  live,  Hans,  I  fear  we  must  give  over 
our  sport.  I  have  treated  my  foot  with  scant  ceremony. 
Stay !"  He  rose  painfully  to  his  feet,  stood  a  moment, 
staring  at  the  door  with  a  white  face,  then  fell  again. 

"  How  can  this  thing  be  ?  "  said  Hans  fretfully.  "  Thou 
earnest  hither  without  a  groan." 

"  I  forgot  my  misery,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  because  a 
lovely  maiden  was  upon  my  arm." 

"Belle-Isle,  art  true?  Canst  not  in  very  truth  fight 
with  me,  an  I  lean  thee  against  yonder  wall  ?  " 

"  By  Belle-Isle,  comrade,  I  am  as  water  in  a  sieve !  " 

"  Well,  well,  let  us  not  linger.  Gonzalvo  will  dance 
hither  presently.  Canst  climb  upon  my  back?  I  will 
take  thee  to  Hendrik's  retreat." 

"  My  weight  is  great,"  said  the  other,  putting  his  arms 
about  the  burly  neck. 

Hans  laughed  contemptuously.  "  A  feather  !  "  he  said, 
rising.  "  May  my  conscience  ne'er  be  straddled  by  a 
heavier  burden !  " 


94 


Chapter  Six 

THE  SUBTERRANEAN  RETREAT. 


H 


ANS  FOOT  bore  Belle-Isle  upon  his  back, 
encountering  neither  challenge  nor  in- 
quiry. Several  times  he  was  compelled  to 
set  the  young  man  upon  the  ground  while 
he  filled  his  great  lungs,  and  stretched  his  arms.  But 
these  stops  were  at  far  intervals,  for  the  Holland  Wolf 
had  wonderful  powers  of  endurance.  They  were  near 
the  river  now.  The  activity  of  the  city  was  past,  and 
lights  were  seldom  to  be  seen.  At  last  Hans  left  the 
Frenchman  upon  the  steps  of  a  church,  telling  him  he 
would  not  have  long  to  wait.  When  he  was  alone,  Belle- 
Isle  groaned  from  the  pain  of  the  bruise  he  had  treated 
so  mercilessly.  He  was  in  a  low,  flat  part  of  the  city, 
where  the  houses  were  small  and  mean,  separated  from 
each  other  by  marshy  commons. 

Soon  the  sound  of  approaching  feet  smote  upon  his 
ear,  and  he  discovered  both  Hans  and  Bilder. 

"  Thou  art  to  make  oath,"  said  Bilder  without  cere- 
mony, "  thou  art  to  swear  by  everything  that  is  sacred 
to  thee,  Belle-Isle  —  " 

95 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Let  him  swear,"  interrupted  Hans,  "  by  all  the  pretty 
women  that  ever  he  did  know;  for  nought  else  is  so 
sacred  to  him." 

"  Women  !  "  said  Bilder,  contemptuously.  "  Nay,  let 
us  have  some  blessed  saint  or  other  involved  in  this 
vow." 

"  Thou  art  always  right,  Bilder,"  said  Hans.  "  Sound 
him  as  to  what  saint  is  dearest  to  his  heart. 

"  I  pray  you,  good  men,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "  take 
me  to  some  place  where  I  may  lie  down,  for  my  foot 
is  a  great  agony,  an  agony  that  leaps  from  climax  to 
climax." 

"  We  will  take  thee,  Frenchman,  when  thou  hast  sworn 
never  to  betray  the  place  of  retreat.  This  thou  must 
swear  by  the  most  sacred  object  known  to  thy  French, 
and  consequently  fickle,  heart. 

"  I  swear  it,"  said  Belle-Isle  eagerly. 

"  Thou  wouldst  never  have  had  this  chance,  were  it 
not  for  Wilhelmina,"  said  Bilder.  "  But  she  wishes  thee 
to  be  brought  among  us.  If  Hans  had  not  lugged  thee 
hither  and  come  to  ask  our  advice,  she  could  not  have 
known  of  thy  plight." 

"He  promised  to  fight  me,"  said  Hans,  "and  I  wished 
to  fatten  him  for  the  slaughter.  I  thought  only  of  nour- 
ishing his  foot  till  it  become  strong  to  hold  him  up 
before  my  sword." 

"  What !     He  will  fight  with  thee  ?  " 

"Yea;  else  would  I  have  carried  him  as  I  had  been  a 
horse?  He  is  a  good  fellow.  There  is  a  spark  in  his 
heart." 

96 


THE    SUBTERRANEAN    RETREAT 

"  Now  this  likes  me  well,"  said  Bilder.  "  It  may  be 
he  is  no  craven  after  all.  What  saint  wilt  swear  by, 
Belle-Isle?" 

"  Let  it  be  Saint  Rosamunda,  —  I  care  not  a  pin  for 
all  the  rest,"  said  the  Frenchman. 

"  What  saint  is  that?  "  Bilder  asked  of  Hans. 

"  I  know  not.     Shall  I  go  ask  a  priest?  " 

"  I  will  add  to  my  vow  the  name  of  Wilhelmina,"  said 
Belle-Isle  quickly.  "  If  she  is  not  a  saint,  it  is  because 
she  is  still  alive." 

"Enough!"  cried  Bilder.  "We  will  receive  thee." 
He  got  the  Frenchman  upon  his  back  and  they  went 
forward  in  the  gloom  of  the  moonless  night.  They 
came  to  a  deserted  hut.  The  door  stood  open.  The 
boots  of  Bilder  rang  upon  the  board  floor.  Hans's  bare 
feet  made  a  sound  as  of  soft  echoes. 

"  No  one  seems  to  be  at  home,"  said  Bilder. 

Hans  laughed. 

Bilder  slipped  the  Frenchman  to  the  floor.  "  Shift 
for  thyself,  comrade,"  said  Bilder.  "  Thou,  at  least, 
canst  crawl.  This  way,  —  it  is  an  opening  in  the  floor. 
Tumble  not  head-downwards  into  the  depths.  Feelest 
the  rope-ladder?  Cling  to  it  like  leech  to  patient,  or 
thou  wilt  come  by  a  cold  bath." 

"  Might  we  not  have  a  light?  "  inquired  Belle-Isle,  as 
a  cold  damp  air  breathed  into  his  face  from  below. 

"  Down  with  thee !  "  called   Hans  who  had  slipped 
down  the  rope-ladder,  and  now  waited  below.     "  I  will 
receive  thee  as  gently  as  thou  wert  a  nursing  babe,  and 
my  breast  thy  banqueting-hall." 
?  97 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  I  like  not  this  horrible  uncertainty,"  said  the  French- 
man. 

"  Methinks,"  observed  Bilder,  "  this  infant  hath  been 
weaned,  good  mother  Hans.  He  doth  not  lift  out  his 
arms  to  thee." 

Belle-Isle  clutched  the  swaying  ladder  desperately 
and  slipped  down  into  the  cellar.  Hans  caught  his 
swinging  form,  and  drew  him  gently  to  him.  Belle- 
Isle's  wounded  foot  struck  against  some  hard  object. 

"  Hast  the  babe?"  called  Bilder  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yea,  he  hath  fainted,  thank  God  !  so  we  may  bestow 
him  at  our  ease." 

Bilder  climbed  through  the  trap-door,  closed  it  be- 
hind him  in  a  way  that  defied  detection,  and  reached 
the  side  of  his  comrade.  They  stood  upon  a  raft  which 
rocked  gently  as  the  water  rippled  against  the  sides  of 
the  cellar.  Hans  struck  a  spark  by  means  of  flint  and 
steel,  lighted  a  brimstone  match,  and  set  a  torch  to 
blazing.  The  raft  was  only  about  three  feet  wide  and 
perhaps  six  in  length,  formed  of  heavy  squared  timbers, 
spiked  together  by  cross-beams.  Belle-Isle  lay  uncon- 
scious upon  the  floor.  At  one  end  stood  an  iron  rod 
upon  which  the  pine  knot  blazed.  Hans  held  a  pole, 
and  Bilder  took  up  another  which  lay  beside  the  French- 
man. Hans,  by  means  of  his  pole,  unhooked  the  rope 
ladder  from  its  fastenings  just  under  the  trap-door.  He 
rolled  it  up  and  placed  it  within  a  box  fastened  to  the 
raft.  Then  he  pushed  off,  and  Bilder  helped  both  to 
propel  and  steer  the  rude  craft.  They  were  in  a  cellar 
of  ordinary  size,  which  was  entirely  bare.  The  walls 

98 


THE    SUBTERRANEAN    RETREAT 

were  of  heavy  stones.  Above  their  heads  was  the 
oaken  floor  of  the  deserted  cabin,  crossed  by  massive 
timbers. 

The  men  pushed  straight  toward  the  farther  side  of 
the  apartment,  the  water  reaching  no  higher  than  three 
feet  up  the  poles.  When  they  came  to  the  rock  wall, 
the  torch  shone  upon  a  door  which  had  been  painted  so 
artfully  that  it  could  scarcely  be  distinguished  from  the 
wall  in  which  it  stood.  The  irregularities  of  the  stone 
surface  had  been  skilfully  reproduced  upon  the  single 
massive  board. 

The  raft  scraped  against  the  wall  while  Hans,  with 
the  upper  end  of  his  pole,  rapped  three  times,  then 
twice,  then  again  three  times.  The  door  opened 
promptly.  They  were  evidently  expected.  The  door- 
way was  little  wider  than  the  raft,  and  so  low,  Bilder  was 
obliged  to  lift  the  iron  rod  with  its  torch  from  the  socket 
and  hold  it  in  a  horizontal  position.  The  men  crouched 
to  pass  out  of  the  cellar.  The  door  closed  behind  them. 
A  man  who  had  been  standing  in  a  niche  of  the  wall 
stepped  upon  the  raft,  causing  the  water  to  ripple  over 
that  end.  The  torch  showed  a  narrow  pass-way  with 
stone  walls,  in  which  an  oar  at  the  side  of  the  raft  could 
not  be  used.  Hans  pushed  from  his  end. 

The  water  did  not  deepen.  There  was  no  conversa- 
tion till  they  came  to  the  end  of  the  passage.  Here  was 
a  door  similar  to  the  one  through  which  they  had 
passed.  It  was  opened  in  the  same  way  by  a  man 
waiting  for  them  on  the  other  side.  Passing  through 
this  doorway,  they  entered  a  wide  expanse  of  black 

99 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

water.  The  man  who  had  opened  to  them  stood  upon 
a  raft  similar  to  theirs.  The  man  who  had  opened 
the  first  door  stepped  upon  the  raft  of  the  second 
watchman.  They  remained  at  their  post.  Evidently 
it  was  their  duty  to  admit  those  who  had  a  right  to 
the  entrance. 

Hans  spoke  to  Bilder.  "  Shall  we  carry  the  French- 
man to  Wilhelmina  in  this  wise?  His  white  face  will 
cause  her  a  sad  fright." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Bilder,  stopping  the  raft.  "  We 
must  not  alarm  Wilhelmina." 

"  But  we  cannot  wrap  him  up  and  carry  him  into  the 
house,"  said  Hans,  "  without  making  her  think  he  is 
dead." 

"What  shall  we  do,  then?"  said  Bilder.  "Come, 
Hans,  thou  art  the  one  for  strategy.  Give  us  a  thought 
for  a  torch  to  light  us  out  of  this  maze." 

"  It  is  well  spoken  of  me,"  said  Hans,  patting  his 
stomach  in  self-approval,  "  I  am  full  of  subtleties  and 
wiles.  Who  but  me  would  ever  have  thought  of  dress- 
ing up  the  dead  Spaniard  as  a  woman?" 

"  Who,  indeed,  comrade  !  And  who  but  thee  would 
have  forgotten  that  his  head  lay  grinning  under  the 
table?" 

"Well,  well,  there  are  many  things  to  think  of  in  a 
stratagem,  Bilder  Kopperzoon.  There  is  the  main  point 
to  consider,  and  I  have  no  mind  for  side  issues." 

"  Give  us,  then,  a  main  point  on  this  swooning  French- 
man." 

"  I  have  it,  Bilder.  Thrust  his  head  under  water,  and 
100 


THE    SUBTERRANEAN    RETREAT 

thou  wilt  pull  him  thence  as  lively  as  a  duck  who  hath 
shown  last  her  tail." 

"  Marry,  a  noble  idea,  Hans  Foot !  Would  God  I  had 
thy  schemes  as  scabbards  for  my  deeds !  " 

Norman  Belle-Isle  suddenly  regained  consciousness. 

"  Woof!  "  he  spluttered.     "  Why  am  I  so  wet?  " 

"  It  is  a  trick  of  the  water,"  said  Hans,  highly  gratified. 

"  It  is  a  trick  of  some  vile  Dutchman,"  said  Belle- 
Isle  sitting  up.  "What  place  is  this?  As  God  is  just, 
I  have  reached  my  fear  at  last !  Woe  is  me  !  " 

"  Nay,  Frenchman,  this  is  not  hell,"  said  Hans. 

"  True,"  said  Belle-Isle,  staring  about  in  amazement. 
Then  he  regained  his  old  manner :  "  This  is  not  hell, 
for  there  is  no  smell  of  scorching  from  thy  clothes. 
Why  hast  thou  brought  me  into  such  a  trap  ?  " 

The  wild  scene  that  met  Belle-Isle's  eyes  almost 
justified  his  ungrateful  words.  Before  him  spread  a 
sheet  of  black  water.  Half  a  dozen  huts,  built  upon 
piles,  threw  from  their  windows  a  faint  light  across 
the  tide.  The  torch  at  the  end  of  the  raft  showed  a 
ceiling  of  massive  planks  that  stretched  away  into  the 
gloom.  At  frequent  intervals  stood  stone  pillars, 
reaching  from  the  surface  of  the  little  lake  to  the 
covering.  Here  and  there  were  stone  walls  that  had 
once  formed  sides  of  .cellars.  They  had  been  left  to 
strengthen  the  retreat.  Some  of  the  huts  were  built 
with  one  side  against  these  old  walls. 

As  Belle-Isle  stared,  he  observed  a  raft  similar  to 
the  one  upon  which  he  sat  move  from  one  of  the 
huts.  Its  torch  showed  three  women  upon  its  unpro- 

101 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

tected  surface.  They  glided  smoothly  to  another  hut, 
their  red  torch  throwing  dancing  lights  over  the  tide. 
They  disembarked  at  the  door,  and  vanished  within. 
There  was  no  sound  of  welcome.  Listen  as  intently 
as  he  might,  Belle-Isle  could  hear  only  the  pole  of 
Hans  as  it  sank  into  the  shallow  water,  and  the  heavy 
breathing  of  Bilder. 

The  raft  moved  forward,  and  stopped  before  a  hut. 
The  floor  of  the  raft  was  on  a  level  with  the  threshold. 
Hans  rapped  once  upon  the  door.  It  opened,  and  the 
rotund  form  of  Jan  Janssen  was  presented  to  their 
view. 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  Bilder  ungraciously.  "  It  is  Wil- 
helmina's  doing,  Jan.  If  ruin  comes  of  this,  blame  not 
the  Wolves." 

"  Ay,"  echoed  Hans,  "blame  not  the  Holland  Wolves  !  " 

Jan  made  no  reply. 

"  Hold  a  light,"  said  Bilder,  "  that  I  may  see  to  carry 
my  fish  out  of  the  boat.  The  hook  of  fate  hath  galled 
him  sore,  and  he  be  sick  in  the  gills." 

Jan  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  thought  better  of 
so  rash  an  intention.  He  stepped  aside,  and  allowed 
the  light  to  stream  out  upon  the  raft.  Bilder  lifted  up 
Belle-Isle,  while  the  raft  rocked  unsteadily,  and,  bending 
his  shaggy  head,  carried  him  into  the  room. 


102 


Chapter  Seven 

THE  HOLLAND    WOLVES'  FAREWELL 


1 


were  eight  persons  in  the  room 
when  Hans  entered,  closing  the  door  behind 
him.  It  was  a  small  apartment,  furnished 
with  a  few  chairs,  and  a  great  chest  in  the 
corner  upon  which  were  stacked  rolls  of  bedding.  Jan 
lifted  down  one  of  these  rolls,  which  proved  to  be  a 
narrow  pallet.  He  spread  this  upon  the  floor,  and  Bilder 
placed  the  Frenchman  gently  upon  the  lowly  bed.  Belle- 
Isle  was  confused  by  so  many  watching  eyes,  he  was 
suffering  acutely  from  his  foot,  and  he  was  unhappy 
because  he  must  be  separated  —  perhaps  forever  —  from 
Rosamunda.  The  imperious  beauty  of  the  haughty 
Spaniard  had  touched  him  keenly,  and  her  memory 
stood  between  him  and  all  else,  making  the  scene  about 
him  appear  commonplace.  He  lay  with  lips  tightly 
compressed  lest  a  groan  escape  them. 

There  was  the  confused  murmur  of  voices  in  the  room. 
Hendrik  Janssen  was  conversing  with  old  Joost  van 
Boendale  on  religious  matters.  Bilder  and  Hans  were 
talking  to  two  ladies :  one,  the  daughter  of  Joost ;  the 
other,  her  aunt.  They  were  telling  how  Belle-Isle  had 

103 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

escaped  with  the  Spaniard,  and  how  he  had  been  carried 
hither.  Jan  Janssen,  as  usual,  was  silent.  Occasionally 
he  glanced  furtively  toward  Kenau,  Joost's  daughter, 
but  he  had  not  the  courage  to  venture  to  her  side. 

Wilhelmina  had  come  forward  as  soon  as  Belle-Isle 
had  been  placed  upon  the  pallet.  Now  she  knelt  upon 
the  floor  beside  him.  "  Poor  boy !  "  she  said  gently 
laying  her  hand  upon  his  cheek.  "  Now,  what  hast 
thou  done?  Where  is  the  bandage  I  put  upon  thy 
foot?" 

Belle-Isle  did  not  open  his  eyes.  He  moaned.  He 
thought  to  himself,  "  Rosamunda  !  " 

"Foolish  boy!  "  she  said,  "  to  come  hither  in  such  a 
state.  Was  not  our  home  good  enough  for  thee  ?  " 

He  opened  his  eyes.  "  But,  Wilhelmina  —  he 
closed  his  eyes  again ;  she  looked  so  big  and  strong ! 
"  But  I  could  not  stay.  Were  not  the  soldiers  thirsty 
for  my  blood?  Wouldst  have  a  corpse  of  me,  damsel?  " 

"  Nay.  But  what  was  that  Spanish  jade  to  thee, 
Belle-Isle?  When  she  ran  into  the  house,  why  didst  not 
turn  her  out  again,  unto  her  own  people?  " 

"  Thou  knowest  not  the  road  thy  words  have  taken," 
he  said  sharply.  "  She  is  as  pure  as  any  woman.  She  is 
a  marvel  of  chastity  and  a  wonder  of  virtue.  Would  I 
see  her  thrown  to  those  dogs?  " 

"  How  knowest  thou,  Belle-Isle,  that  she  is  such  a 
marvel  and  such  a  wonder?"  inquired  Wilhelmina,  as 
she  drew  off  his  slipper  and  began  to  bathe  his  foot  in  a 
concoction  she  had  prepared  before  his  coming.  "  Is  it 
because  she  told  thee  so,  or  because  she  is  beautiful? 

104 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

Foolish  boy  !  "  she  exclaimed  with  the  maternal  tone 
against  which  he  had  previously  rebelled,  "  knowest 
what  thou  hast  done  ?  Thou  hast  lost  our  home  to  us, 
for  we  may  never  venture  thither  again  lest  we  be  seized 
and  dragged  to  the  Inquisition ;  and  all  because  thou,  our 
guest,  didst  hold  the  door  closed  between  the  soldiers  and 
that  which  they  had  brought  with  them  from  Spain.  She 
belonged  to  them.  Well  I  remember  thy  delight  in  those 
brazen  wretches  this  morning  !  I  know  she  is  a  '  marvel' 
and  a  '  wonder  '  because  she  has  black  eyes  !  " 

"  Wilhelmina,  leave  my  foot  alone.     Let  me  die  !  " 

Wilhelmina  laughed. 

Belle-Isle  opened  his  eyes.  "  Maiden,  is  it  true  that  I 
have  lost  thy  home  to  thee  ?  " 

"  Ay,  true,  indeed.  Who  else  would  have  sheltered 
that  being  without  shame?  Would  Jan  have  helped  her 
to  escape?  Would  the  Wolves  have  fought  on  her 
account?" 

"  By  Our  Lady,"  cried  Hans,  overhearing  the  words, 
"  not  we  !  What  was  that  lady  to  us  but  just  one  more 
person  in  the  world?  But  we  could  not  see  Belle-Isle 
slaughtered  like  a  sheep.  However,  Wilhelmina,  that 
lady  was  not  as  thou  thinkest.  She  is  a  virtuous 
damsel." 

"And  how  makest  that  out?  "  demanded  Wilhelmina 
scornfully. 

Hans  scratched  his  head.  "  Why,  Belle-Isle  told  me 
so,"  he  faltered. 

Wilhelmina  laughed  loudly. 

Belle-Isle  drew  away  his  foot  with  an  angry  motion. 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  I  will  not  have  thee  dressing  my  foot !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Such  hands  are  not  for  such  work." 

"  Oh,  yes  they  are,"  said  the  girl,  holding  them  up. 
"  See  how  large  and  strong  they  are  !  If  there  were  no 
work  in  the  world,  how  could  such  hands  as  mine  make 
their  excuse?"  She  continued  to  dress  the  bruised 
foot. 

"  Hendrik,"  called  Belle-Isle,  "  thy  daughter  tells  me 
my  adventure  hath  lost  thee  thy  home.  But  I  swear 
to  thee  by  Belle-Isle  that  the  Spanish  maiden  I  rescued 
is  as  fair  and  spotless  as  thine  own  daughter." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,"  said  Hendrik,  "  we  will  say  no 
more  about  my  home.  For  what  is  a  house  in  com- 
parison with  such  a  jewel?"  He  beamed  upon  his 
daughter. 

"  I  cannot  protect  myself,"  she  said,  "  if  all  the  world 
compares  me  to  that  woman !  " 

"  I  can  protect  thee,"  said  Bilder,  drawing  his  sword. 
"What  is  amiss?  Show  me  a  man  to  fight  with.  Show 
me  a  man  !  " 

"  Show  me  a  man ! "  echoed  Hans,  grasping  his 
weapon. 

"  I  will  show  you  a  man,"  cried  Belle-Isle,  "  an  I  ever 
recover  of  this  wound  !  " 

"  Now  the  saints  grant  a  speedy  recovery !  "  prayed 
Bilder  fervently. 

"Friends!"  spoke  old  Joost.  "What  is  this?  A 
brawl  in  my  home?  Nay,  nay,  the  peace  and  love  of 
God  home  with  us,  and  strife  must  stay  without  the  door. 
Put  up  your  swords,  children ;  would  fight  each  other, 

106 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

when  all  swords  are  turned  against  you?  For  shame, 
Bilder,  for  shame,  Hans  !  " 

The  Wolves  hung  their  heads. 

"  Do  not  make  them  grieve,  father,"  said  Kenau,  "  for 
remember  this  is  their  farewell  visit,  and  all  honors  are 
theirs.  I  enjoyed  their  swords  flashing  so  valiantly.  I 
know  if  a  man  had  been  found,  he  would  have  wished 
himself  a  woman  in  a  twinkling !  " 

Belle-Isle  glanced  covertly  at  the  speaker,  to  see  what 
manner  of  woman  this  Kenau  might  be.  He  was  pleased 
by  what  he  discovered.  She  was  very  tall,  it  was  true ; 
tall  past  the  allotted  height  of  women,  and  she  was 
slender.  Belle-Isle  regarded  her.  Yes,  she  was  cer- 
tainly spare.  And  so  tall !  —  why  had  she  not  stopped 
half  a  foot  sooner?  He  was  sorry.  He  regretted  that  she 
lacked  a  certain  roundness  and  plumpness.  But  her  face 
was  pretty,  her  eyes  bright  and  sparkling,  and  her  lips 
so  used  to  sprightly  conversation  that  they  naturally 
held  themselves  in  an  attitude  for  a  smile.  Belle-Isle 
looked  at  Wilhelmina,  —  too  large.  He  looked  at 
Kenau,  —  too  thin.  He  thought  of  Rosamunda, —  ah, 
heaven ! 

"  I  am  sorry  if  I  have  spoken  sternly,  children,"  said 
old  Joost,  looking  upon  the  Wolves  doubtfully. 

"  Thou  speak  sternly,  father  Boendale?"  cried  Bilder, 
throwing  an  arm  about  the  white-haired  man. 

Hans  rushed  up  to  the  other  side,  and  placed  his  arm 
about  the  Protestant. 

Joost  raised  his  hands,  and  laid  one  on  either  shaggy 
head.  "  Now  the  Lord  bless  these,  my  dear  children," 

107 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

he  said,  lifting  up  his  eyes,  "  and  grant  they  may  never 
strike  a  blow  save  for  their  unhappy  country." 

"Not  even  for  Wilhelmina?"  asked  Bilder  doubt- 
fully. 

"Not  even  against  yonder  Frenchman?"  gasped 
Hans. 

"  Let  me  read  to  you  from  the  Blessed  Word,"  said  the 
old  man,  "  and  ye  shall  hear  how  Jesus  bade  his  disciple 
put  up  his  sword." 

"  Oh,  no,  father  Boendale,"  said  Bilder,  "  we  dare  not 
listen  to  that  book ;  it  is  forbidden.  They  do  tell  me 
that  the  more  Bible  the  less  Catholic,  God  pity  us ! " 

"  I  have  been  reading  it  to  Hendrik,"  said  Joost  with 
a  tender  smile,  "  and  he  is  none  the  worse." 

"  Hendrik  is  a  fearsome  bold  man,"  said  Bilder.  "  I 
am  not  afraid  to  fight  with  men,  father  Boendale,  but  I 
must  take  care  of  my  soul ;  it  is  all  I  have  left,  now." 

"  Ay,"  said  Hans,  "  we  dare  not  throw  off  guard,  and 
be  at  ease  with  that  excommunicated  book." 

"  But  Hans,  it  is  not  excommunicated.  Does  not  all 
religion  rest  upon  it  as  a  foundation?" 

"  It  may  be,  father,  but  who  am  I,  to  dig  down  under 
the  foundation?  Nay,  let  us  praise  God  in  the  house 
that  stands  upon  the  foundation.  Dear  father,  tempt  us 
not.  We  must  diet  our  souls.  The  fatter  the  soul  in 
this  world,  the  better  it  will  fry  in  the  next." 

"  It  is  a  good  thought,"  said  Bilder  approvingly. 
"  And  that  suggests  to  my  mind  that  a  proper  way  of 
bidding  us  Godspeed  would  be  to  spread  a  feast." 

Kenau's  aunt  rose  at  these  words. 

108 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

Belle-Isle  turned  his  eyes  to  Wilhelmina.  "  What 
does  it  mean?  Do  the  Wolves  leave  us?" 

"  Alas  !  yes,  Belle-Isle.  They  must  back  to  Holland. 
It  may  be  we  shall  never  see  them  again,  so  we  make 
them  what  cheer  we  may." 

"  It  is  not  long  since  they  ate  nigh  to  bursting,"  com- 
plained the  Frenchman.  "Will  they  dine  again?" 

"  Thou  shalt  see,"  said  Wilhelmina,  showing  her 
teeth.  A  wave  of  sickness  passed  over  the  Frenchman. 
He  groaned.  Jan  and  Hendrik  had  removed  the  bedding 
from  the  top  of  the  chest,  and  Kenau's  aunt  was  inves- 
tigating its  depths. 

"  Have  ye  anything  in  mind?  "  she  asked. 

"  Hast  onions  a-plenty?  "  inquired  Bilder  timidly. 

"Yea,  a-plenty." 

"  Let  us  have  onions,  then,"  chirped  Hans.  "  And  if 
there  be  a  cold  ham,  for  God's  love  set  it  forth." 

Wilhelmina,  who  had  finished  her  work,  now  sat  upon 
a  corner  of  Belle-Isle's  pallet,  for  there  were  only  four 
chairs  in  the  house.  "  We  cannot  cook  in  this  retreat," 
she  explained.  "  A  fire  is  never  lighted  save  that 
of  a  torch.  But  it  grows  not  cold  in  here,  even  in 
winter." 

"  Yea,  I  have  a  good  ham,  a  comfortable  ham,"  said 
Kenau's  aunt  with  a  smile,  "  a  ham  worthy  of  Jan  van 
Boendale  himself.  Thou  hast  heard  that  name?"  she 
added,  looking  toward  Belle-Isle. 

"  Have  I?"  Belle-Isle  whispered  to  Wilhelmina. 

"  Thou  hadst  better,"  she  whispered. 

"  Ay,"  said  Belle-Isle  boldly,  "  ay,  have  I !  " 

109 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Kenau  went  into  the  next  room  and  returned  with  an 
empty  box.  "  Let  me  help,"  said  Jan,  coming  to  her 
clumsily.  Kenau  flashed  a  smile  into  his  face  that  pet- 
rified him.  "  Bring  the  boards,  then,"  she  said.  The 
box  was  placed  near  the  chest,  and  boards  were  stretched 
from  one  to  the  other  for  a  table.  The  ham,  two  large 
onions,  and  a  loaf  of  brown  bread,  were  set  upon  the 
boards;  also  curiously  shaped  stoups  of  hard  cider. 
Hans  and  Bilder  sank  upon  their  knees  opposite  each 
other,  their  eyes  ogling  the  viands. 

"Shall  I  ever  forget  our  parting?"  cried  Hans; 
"  Hither  with  that  ham,  Bilder,  thou  dear  man !  " 

"  Here  is  the  knife,  Hans,  the  saints  bless  thee  !  But 
we  would  enjoy  this  twice  as  well,  if  twice  as  many  sat 
at  meat.  Come,  Hendrik,  Joost,  Kenau,  Jan  —  " 

They  shook  their  heads. 

"  Now,  Wilhelmina,"  pleaded  Bilder. 

Wilhelmina  rose.  "  Is  there  an  onion  for  me, 
Hans?" 

"Thou  shalt  have  half  of  mine,  Wilhelmina,  although 
I  shall  have  only  enough  left  to  sweeten  my  breath." 

"  I  will  give  a  third  of  mine,"  said  Bilder,  after  a 
moment  of  inward  struggle. 

"  But  that  leaves  me  with  less  than  anybody,"  said 
Hans.  "  Now  this  thing  shall  not  be  !  " 

"  Get  others  from  the  chest,"  said  Vrouw  van  Boen- 
dale. 

"  We  may  not  do  that  without  lifting  these  boards," 
replied  Hans,  "  and  if  we  do  that,  we  must  stop  eating. 
Blessed  Mother  Mary!  Bilder,  hast  tasted  thy  onion? 

no 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

I  complain  no  more.     Wilhelmina   thou  shalt   have  a 
third  of  the  half  that  remains  to  me." 

Bilder  fastened  his  teeth  into  his  onion,  and  his  eyes 
began  to  water.  "As  God  reigns!"  he  exclaimed, 
"hand  me  the  cider  ere  I  go  up  with  an  explosion; 
for  there  is  a  raging  fire  within  and  a  river  rushing 
out  of  my  eyes.  "  Ach !  "  He  drank  and  smacked 
his  lips. 

"  Jan,"  said  Belle-Isle  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  beseech  thee 
set  thy  broad  back  between  me  and  yonder  orgy.  I  am 
very  weak,  and  my  stomach  rises  to  be  free." 

Jan  solemnly  lowered  himself  before  Belle-Isle,  and 
blotted  out  the  room  from  the  feverish  eyes.  But  it 
proved  of  no  avail.  For  upon  Bilder's  suddenly  setting 
down  his  onion  with  great  emphasis  upon  the  upper  end 
of  the  board,  it  slid  and  bounded  down  the  slanting 
table.  Hans  grasped  after  it,  but  only  succeeded  in 
giving  it  a  wild  stroke  which  sent  it  flying  into  Belle- 
Isle's  bosom. 

"  Faugh  !  "  cried  Belle-Isle,  hurling  the  despised  vege- 
table far  from  him.  "  Jan,  how  is  it  that  the  outside 
world  never  discovers  this  retreat?  " 

"Well,"  said  Jan, — he  paused  and  cleared  his 
throat. 

"  You  make  no  fires,  so  the  smoke  cannot  betray 
you,"  continued  the  Frenchman.  "  There  is  little 
noise,  —  no  one  could  hear  you  from  the  streets  above. 
But  I  should  think  any  man  in  Brussels  might  smell 
you  out !  " 

"Who  hath  my  onion?"  cried  Bilder. 

in 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Here,  good  Bilder,"  said  Hans  eagerly,  "  take  of 
mine." 

"  Nay,  Hans,"  said  Wilhelmina,  "  I  will  divide  with 
Bilder." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  Bilder  kindly,  "  I  will  not  rob  thee. 
It  would  take  a  whole  ham  to  smother  down  such  an 
onion." 

Kenau  rose,  brought  her  chair  beside  Jan  as  he 
squatted  before  Norman  Belle-Isle,  and  seated  herself. 

"  Jan,"  she  said,  looking  down  upon  him  with  a  mis- 
chievous smile,  "  is  it  not  thy  desire  to  fare  forth  with 
the  Holland  Wolves  to  Holland,  and  achieve  somewhat 
for  thy  country?  " 

Jan  moved  uneasily. 

"  Thou  art  so  big !  "  she  said,  "  there  is  no  man  in 
Brussels  of  such  size,  I  warrant  me !  Doth  it  not  irk 
thee  to  have  all  this  magnitude  running  to  waste?  How 
many  pounds  have  we  here  of  muscle,  bone,  and  sinew 
that  might  be  at  the  command  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  ? 
Thou  art  no  good  here,  Jan.  If  I  were  a  man,  Jan,  I 
would  accompany  Bilder  and  Hans  this  very  night, 
sword  at  my  side,  for  the  freedom  of  the  Netherlands." 

"  Kenau,"  said  Jan  slowly,  "  now  God  be  thanked, 
thou  art  no  man,  for  there  be  men  a-plenty  on  this 
round  earth  of  ours,  but  of  Kenaus  only  one." 

"Yes,  and  one  too  many,"  she  said.  "  Of  what  use 
am  I,  Jan,  but  to  be  a  drag  upon  the  arm  of  love?  " 

"  I  know  not  how  many  pounds  there  be  here  of 
muscle,  blood,  and  sinew,"  said  Jan.  "  But  I  would 
willingly  cut  off  my  arm  if  that  would  reduce  me  to  the 

112 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

size  of  thy  favor,  Kenau.  Is  my  size  a  stumbling-block 
to  thee?  Say  the  word,  and  I  will  never  taste  bite  of 
food  again,  till  I  have  waned  to  a  thinness  notable  to 
behold." 

"  It  is  not  so  much  thy  magnitude,  Jan,  as  the  small 
spirit  that  methinks  must  feel  lost  in  so  great  a  shell. 
Hast  no  spirit  to  fight  for  our  country?" 

"  Thou  sayest  I  am  no  good  here,"  said  Jan,  whose 
mind  could  not  keep  pace  with  the  changes  of  his  inter- 
locutor. "  Thou  art  wrong.  Thy  father  will  one  day  in 
his  fanaticism  or  zeal  give  himself  into  the  power  of  the 
Inquisitors.  Already  he  debates  between  love  of  thee 
and  love  of  God.  Perhaps  the  pounds  of  muscle  and 
sinew  in  my  body  will  weigh  in  thy  favor  on  that  day, 
Kenau." 

"  Jan,  what  dost  thou  say?  Such  a  thing  shall  never 
be.  Fear  not,  my  father  will  protect  me.  I  do  not  need 
thee,  Jan.  Have  I  not  other  friends?" 

"  Then  thou  sayest,  '  Of  what  use  art  thou  ? '  "  pursued 
Jan.  "  Kenau,  of  great  use.  Dost  thou  not  awaken  in 
me  the  glory  of  love?  Without  thee,  would  not  life  be  a 
cold  reality  to  Jan  Janssen  ?  What  thou  art  to  others  I 
may  guess.  What  thou  art  to  me  I  cannot  tell,  for  I 
never  belonged  to  any  of  the  guilds,  and  therefore  can- 
not fashion  poetry.  My  love  cannot  be  told  in  prose, 
Kenau ;  it  must  either  leap  and  dance  in  joyous  sweet 
music,  or  be  still  and  meditate." 

"  Say  not  these  things  to  me,  Jan,"  said  Kenau,  with 
a  toss  of  her  head  that  showed  no  displeasure,  but 
rather  the  caprice  of  a  coquette.  "Thou  art  bold  to 
8  113 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

speak  to  me  again  of  such  a  matter,  when  I  have  refused 
thy  suit  a  dozen  times.  Have  I  not  told  thee  of  that 
handsome  tall  man,  so  slender,  that  I  did  espy  one  sum- 
mer's afternoon  in  Rotterdam,  for  whom  I  have  ever 
since  felt  a  most  wonderful  something  that  may  be  love, 
for  all  I  know?  His  name  I  know  not,  but  I  am  sure  it 
was  not  Jan.  Never  have  I  seen  him  since.  How  doth 
he  stick  in  my  memory,  unless  some  strange  fantasy 
hath  glued  him  upon  its  tablet?  How  can  I  know  but 
this  is  love,  in  truth?  Tell  me,  Jan,  of  the  signs!  " 

"  I  know  well  thou  hast  other  friends,"  said  Jan 
quietly,  "  and  that  thou  lovest  me  not.  I  have  grown 
used  to  that  thought,  and  it  troubles  me  no  more.  Hap- 
piness cannot  be  bright  without  throwing  a  shadow.  It 
is  enough  that  I  may  love  thee,  and  watch  over  thee, 
and  see  thy  smile  from  day  to  day.  It  is  enough  to 
know  that,  when  the  end  comes,  I  shall  be  a  protection 
to  thee,  Kenau.  Think  of  the  flowers  we  have  passed  in 
our  lives  without  plucking !  They  belonged  to  others, 
but  ours  was  the  delight  in  their  beauty.  So  do  I  delight 
in  thee,  Kenau,  a  maiden  I  may  never  call  my  own. 
The  bitterness  of  that  love  is  all  buried ;  I  have  moved 
forward,  out  of  its  shadow.  I  am  in  its  light." 

Kenau  drooped  her  head  a  moment,  then  looked 
down  and  met  the  upturned  eyes  of  Jan.  There  were 
tears  in  her  eyes.  "  Thou  simple  Jan  !  "  she  said.  "Jan, 
thou  art  a  good  man ;  I  am  afraid  I  cause  thee  much 
sorrow !  " 

"  As  for  that  handsome  tall  man,  so  slender,"  said 
Jan  — 

114 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

Kenau  jumped  up  and  ran  to  her  father,  who  sat 
with  the  Bible  upon  his  knee,  expounding  a  text  to 
Hendrik.  "  Father,"  she  cried,  "  Jan  says  thou  wilt  one 
day  give  thyself  up  to  the  Inquisitors.  He  has  been 
trying  to  frighten  me  !  " 

Joost  van  Boendale  rose,  greatly  agitated.  He  held 
the  Bible  in  his  hand  as  he  looked  into  Kenau's  face. 
"  I  shall  never  give  myself  up,"  he  said. 

"  There,  there !  "  cried  Kenau,  flashing  a  triumphant 
look  at  her  lover.  "  I  am  angry  with  thee,  Jan;  thou  art 
a  cruel  man  to  seek  to  move  me  with  such  words  !  " 

"  But,"  said  Joost,  "  it  may  be  I  shall  fall  into  their 
hands,  my  daughter.  Kenau,  I  cannot  stay  hidden  longer 
in  this  retreat.  The  harvest  is  ready,  but  where  are 
God's  laborers?  Scattered,  —  imprisoned,  —  slain.  My 
countrymen  wait  for  the  truth,  as  a  country  in  darkness 
awaits  the  sun.  I  must  go  forth  and  preach  the  word." 

"  Father !  "  cried  Kenau  in  a  voice  of  terror.  "  Oh, 
father,  that  means  the  same  thing  that  Jan  said.  How 
canst  thou  preach  without  being  apprehended?" 

"  Doubtless  the  fate  will  overtake  me,  my  child.  But 
in  the  meantime,  I  shall  have  sown  the  seed  of  truth." 

Kenau  put  both  arms  about  his  neck.  "  Father,"  she 
said,  looking  up  into  his  face  with  an  expression  of  wild 
pleading,  "  tell  me  thou  hast  not  decided  upon  this  fatal 
course.  Oh,  my  father,  my  dear  one  in  all  the  world  ! 
wilt  thou  leave  me  alone?  " 

"  Kenau,  be  brave,  daughter.  I  have  talked  of  this 
to  thy  aunt,  but  I  feared  thee,  Kenau.  Remember  the 
parable.  God  hath  given  me  a  talent.  Shall  I  keep  it 

"5 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

hidden  in  the  depths  of  the  earth?  Or  shall  I  go  forth 
and  let  my  light  shine  while  God  sends  the  fuel  of  faith, 
hope,  and  charity?" 

"  Father  Boendale,"  cried  Bilder,  rising  from  his  sup- 
per, "  let  Hans  and  me  carry  thy  light  upon  the  blades 
of  our  swords,  and  do  thou  abide  with  the  lamb !  " 

"  Hear  Bilder,  father,  hear  what  he  says?  "  said  Kenau, 
beginning  to  sob.  "  He  and  Hans  will  fight  for  our 
liberty;  here  are  two  strong  men  in  the  place  of  thy  frail 
body." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  Hans.  "  We  will  kill  a  many  Spaniard 
for  thee.  This  will  be  putting  out  thy  talent  to  usury, 
good  father  Boendale." 

"  Nay,  children,  the  sword  hath  never  yet  made 
God  one  true  friend.  Better  one  living  disciple  of 
the  Lord  God  than  a  thousand  dead  enemies  of  the 
Cross !  " 

"  What  wilt  thou  do,  Joost?  "  demanded  Hendrik. 

"Even  as  I  have  done  unto  thee  this  night,  my  friend. 
I  will  carry  the  Bible  to  such  as  will  listen.  I  will  ex- 
plain the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ.  I  will  show  the 
true  way  that  leadeth  to  everlasting  life." 

Kenau  sobbed  upon  his  bosom. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Hendrik,  "  I  am  a  staunch 
Catholic,  and  I  only  hear  thee  that  I  may  think  of  a  way 
to  answer  thine  arguments.  But  others  will  pretend  to 
be  persuaded,  then  secretly  go  and  give  thee  up.  Re- 
member the  Regent's  first  decree,  but  two  months  upon 
the  walls :  that  all  ministers  are  to  be  hanged,  as  well  as 
those  who  listen  unto  them.  Our  blessed  King  was  dis- 

116 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

pleased  with  such  a  mild  decree,  and  hath  he  not  sent 
Alva  hither  to  change  hanging  to  burning?  " 

"  I  am  well  informed,"  spoke  up  Bilder,  "  that  since 
the  first  of  this  year,  there  be  scarce  a  town  so  small  in 
the  Netherlands  that  hath  not  seen  a  hundred  men 
hanged  up  like  common  felons,  because,  to  use  the 
words  of  Peter  Titelman,  that  Master  Inquisitor,  '  They 
are  addicted  to  reading  the  Scriptures.'  Bethink  thee, 
good  father  Boendale,  it  will  bring  little  comfort  to  thy 
daughter  to  have  thy  neck  stretched  in  this  fashion." 

"  Oh,  Wilhelmina,"  wailed  Kenau,  "  speak  to  him,  for 
he  hath  often  heard  thy  voice,  and  he  will  not  heed  his 
only  child." 

Wilhelmina  was  silent. 

"  Come,  child,"  said  Hendrik,  "hang  not  thy  head, 
but  bid  Joost  remember  his  natural  ties." 

"  I  pray  thee  spare  me,"  she  said. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  cried  Bilder,  "  speak  thy  mind,  and  I 
have  a  sword  to  drive  it  down  any  man's  throat." 

"Ay,"  echoed  Hans,  "  and  I  have  a  better." 

"  It  is  not  so,"  said  Bilder.  "  Better,  thou  rascal?  Thy 
sword  better  than  mine?  How  now,  Hans,  saidst 
'Better'?" 

Jan  rose  from  the  pallet  and  calmly  took  the  swords 
away  from  the  Holland  Wolves,  while  they  stared  at  him 
good-humoredly.  "  If  we  have  more  talk  of  which  sword 
is  better,"  said  Jan  calmly,  "  I  will  snap  both  blades  and 
throw  them  out  into  the  water." 

"With  submission,  Jan,"  said  Bilder,  grinning. 

"  But  what  says  Wilhelmina?  "  demanded  Joost. 

117 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  I  say,  father  Boendale,"  said  the  maiden  slowly, 
"  that  if  I  believed  as  thou,  I  should  seek  to  show  other 
men  their  error.  If  I  believed  I  knew  the  only  road  to 
safety,  would  I  not  call  to  those  astray?  " 

"  But  his  daughter  !  "  said  Hendrik  sharply. 

"  His  daughter,  yes,"  said  Wilhelmina.  "  But  she  is 
only  a  maiden,  such  as  I.  Shall  we  weigh  against  the 
scores  he  thinks  to  rescue  from  destruction?" 

"Wilhelmina  !  "  cried  Hendrik  sharply.  "  Now  what 
art  thou?" 

"  In  truth  a  strong  Catholic,  father.  Fear  not  for  me. 
I  only  know,  were  I  no  Catholic,  I  should  seek  to  win 
others  to  my  own  faith,  even  as  I  have  often  tried  to 
persuade  Kenau  to  become  a  daughter  of  Rome  and 
God.  For  her  heresy  I  pity  her  with  all  my  heart,  but  I 
love  her  just  as  if  we  were  going  to  heaven  arm-in-arm." 

"  What  Wilhelmina  says  is  true,"  observed  Vrouw  van 
Boendale,  with  a  sad  smile.  "  She  speaks  from  un- 
prejudiced mind,  worthy  the  admiration  of  old  Jan 
Boendale,  my  illustrious  ancestor.  My  brother  thinks 
he  has  the  Word  of  God,  and  he  dares  not  hide  such  a 
treasure  from  his  countrymen.  I,  also,  believe  he  is 
walking  in  truth.  He  were  unworthy  the  name  of 
Boendale,  should  he  not  lift  his  voice  to  those  wander- 
ing among  delusions." 

"  But  he  is  my  father  !  "  cried  Kenau,  clinging  closer. 
"  He  could  never  endure  the  torture  and  the  flames." 

"  My  daughter,"  said  the  old  man,  "  it  may  be  I  shall 
escape  that  fate.  I  shall  not  needlessly  expose  myself 
to  detection." 

118 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

"  No,  no,  no !  "  cried  the  maiden,  "  they  will  hunt 
thee  out  as  they  hunted  Maas  and  Bergen  and  Maer- 
lant  and  Beukelzoon  and  Rhijnvis  Klaasden  and  all  the 
rest,  —  all  who  oppose  the  terrible  and  irresistible 
Church  of  Rome.  And  I  shall  lose  my  father  !  " 

"  If  it  must  be,  Kenau,  shall  I  forsake  God  to  serve 
my  child?  I  am  weak  and  frail,  and  the  rack  is  strong. 
But  sometimes  in  the  frailest  bodies  dwells  the  strongest 
faith.  By  myself  I  could  endure  little ;  but  he  who 
fights  for  the  Lord  never  fights  alone." 

"  Joost,  Joost !  "  cried  Norman  Belle-Isle,  rising  upon 
his  pallet  while  his  eyes  glowed  with  enthusiasm,  "  stand 
firm  like  a  true  soldier !  I  am  with  thee.  When  my 
foot  is  well,  I  will  fare  forth  with  thee,  and  be  thy  right 
hand  in  spreading  the  Gospel.  Long  live  liberty  !  Long 
live  the  Truth  !  " 

They  turned  upon  the  Frenchman  in  amazement. 
Questions  burst  from  the  lips  of  Bilder,  Hans,  and 
Hendrik,  in  the  same  instant. 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  Huguenot,"  cried  Belle-Isle,  waving  his 
arm  above  his  head.  "  Behold  a  man  who  no  longer 
cowers  and  crawls  in  the  shadow  of  Rome  !  " 

"  Here  is  a  sudden  convert,  father  Boendale,"  said 
Bilder,  scornfully. 

"  No  such  thing !  "  cried  Belle-Isle,  still  waving  his 
arm.  "  My  parents  were  Huguenots  and  met  the  death 
of  Huguenots,  as  did  my  aunt.  I  was  brought  up 
among  those  lovers  of  the  true  faith.  There  is  not  a 
Catholic  drop  in  my  blood  !  " 

"  I  bless  thee,  my  son,"  cried  Joost  with  a  tender  smile. 

119 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Do  not  bless  him  too  soon,"  said  Bilder.  "  Here  is 
some  secret  matter !  This  is  a  spy  sent  to  worm  himself 
into  our  secrets !  " 

"  For  shame,  Bilder,"  cried  Wilhelmina. 

"  Nevertheless,"  exclaimed  Hans,  "  it  may  be  true. 
How  cunningly  he  hid  from  us  his  heretical  views !  " 

"  And  said  he  not  he  came  to  us  straight  from  a 
monastery?"  inquired  Hendrik,  doubtfully. 

"  And  when  we  spoke  of  the  reformers,  he  uttered  no 
word !  "  persisted  Bilder.  "  When  Joost  came  to  thy 
house,  Hendrik,  why  did  not  this  fellow  speak  up  and 
say,  '  I,  too,  am  a  reformer? '  But  he  said  never  a  word 
as  to  whether  he  was  a  Calvinist,  Lutheran,  Anabaptist, 
or  belonged  to  any  other  anathematized  and  wholly  ex- 
communicated sect  of  damnable  heresy,  —  begging  thy 
pardon,  father  Boendale." 

Jan  Janssen,  who  had  all  this  time  been  working  him- 
self up  to  the  heat  of  speech,  now  achieved  his  desire. 
"  Let  us  hear  more  from  Belle-Isle.  Let  him  clear  or 
condemn  himself." 

Belle-Isle,  who  had  notably  recovered  from  his  fine 
enthusiasm,  nevertheless  met  their  eyes  without  flinch- 
ing. "  Then  hear  me,"  he  said  emphatically,  "  for  I 
will  speak  without  reserve.  My  father  was  burned  at 
the  stake  for  the  crime  of  preaching  the  Word  of  God. 
That  was  before  my  birth.  Shortly  after  I  was  born, 
my  mother  was  dragged  from  her  bed  and  strangled, 
and  her  body  burned,  because  she  had  converted  one 
of  the  Queen's  maids  of  honor.  My  aunt  adopted  me, 
and  I  lived  with  her  until  I  was  ten,  when  all  her  house- 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

hold  were  seized  and  hurried  to  the  gallows.  A  good 
man,  a  Huguenot,  took  me  and  I  lived  with  him  until 
my  sixteenth  year,  working  in  his  shop." 

"  Here  is  a  mixing  of  matter,"  cried  Bilder.  "  Form- 
erly when  this  Frenchman  told  his  tale,  he  said  his 
father,  his  mother,  and  his  aunt  died.  But  now  he  says 
all  three  were  slain,  not  that  they  died." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  Hans,  "  which  shall  we  believe?  " 

"  When  I  have  slain  thee,"  said  Belle-Isle,  looking  at 
Hans,  "  wilt  thou  not  be  dead?  " 

"  No,  by  the  Holy  Mother,  no  !  "  cried  Hans.  "  Now 
I  would  I  knew  that  the  only  death  I  have  to  fear  lurks 
in  thine  arm,  Frenchman  !  " 

Belle-Isle  smiled  at  him  genially,  which  caused 
Hans  to  scowl  and  tap  the  floor  fretfully  with  his 
heels. 

"  After  that,  friends,  my  master  fled  to  England,  and  I 
was  left  to  shift  for  myself.  So  I  lived  in  many  places, 
—  it  was  a  happy  life.  So  I  came  here." 

"  But  the  monastery?  "  inquired  Hendrik. 

"  Ah,"  said  Belle-Isle  slowly.  "  Now  I  would  rather 
pass  by  the  monastery.  But  there  was  a  maiden  in 
Paris,  and  her  name  —  let  it  be  what  pleased  her  father, 
since  he  gave  it  her.  And  this  lady  took  it  into  her 
poor  mind,  —  I  know  not  why, — she  said  she  would 
become  my  wife.  Look  you,  it  was  her  fancy,  her 
thought.  Now  I  have  never  yet  desired  to  become  a 
married  man.  So  her  father  said  it  would  be  well  for 
me  to  pleasure  his  daughter.  After  I  had  been  in  the 
monastery  a  weary  time  —  " 

121 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"Thou  hast  not  reached  this  monastery  yet,"  said 
Wilhelmina,  sharply. 

"Ah?  But  the  father  was  a  powerful  nobleman.  So 
I  left  Paris  at  night  without  adieus;  I  would  not  pain 
mademoiselle  by  a  parting  scene.  I  disguised  myself 
and  so  came  unto  Germany  and  entered  a  monastery. 
They  thought  me  a  Catholic." 

"But  how  could  they  think  thee  a  Catholic?"  de- 
manded Joost. 

"  I  would  inquire  further  into  the  affair  with  mademoi- 
selle," observed  Bilder,  scowling,  "  if  no  ladies  were 
present." 

"By  Belle-Isle,  your  thoughts  do  you  wrong,  and 
they  wrong  me  as  well !  "  cried  the  Frenchman  hotly. 
"  Now,  as  God  lives,  you  shall  know  the  whole  matter ! 
This  lady  was  a  lovely  creature,  with  the  daintiest  little 
head  and  the  snowiest  neck  in  all  Paris,  but  she  pleased 
me  not,  I  know  not  why.  Good  reasons  may  neither 
cause  love  to  go  nor  come.  Reasons  are  not  the  fag- 
gots that  make  the  flame  of  love.  So  I  could  not 
endure  mademoiselle,  though  she  pursued  me  gallantly. 
I  held  her  at  bay.  Now,  as  to  why  she  loved  me,  I  can 
understand  that  very  well.  There  was  a  dance,  and  that 
night  as  I  stood  with  my  arm  about  her,  and  her  head 
nestling  upon  my  shoulder  —  for  a  gentleman  could  do 
no  less,  —  in  comes  Monsieur  her  father.  There  was  a 
scene.  It  was  like  a  play.  I  said,  '  But  good  !  I  marry 
mademoiselle  at  her  good  pleasure  ! '  Then  I  departed 
from  my  native  land.  I  became  to  inquiring  eyes  a 
Catholic.  How  could  the  world  know?  Did  I  not 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'     FAREWELL 

make  the  sign  of  the  cross  as  skilfully  as  another?  In 
the  monastery,  did  I  not  crunch  my  dry  crust  and  bathe 
my  poor  body  in  icy  water,  and  sleep  upon  the  bare 
ground,  and  thus  escape  the  vigilance  of  mademoiselle's 
powerful  father?  So  I  came  hither.  I  did  not  proclaim 
my  faith.  Are  not  three  martyrs  in  my  family  enough? 
I  thought  to  be  something  else." 

"  Yet  thou  believest?  "  asked  Joost  sadly;  "  and  yet 
thou  canst  deny  the  Son  of  God  to  the  world  by  thy 
daily  life?  Belle-Isle,  why  didst  thou  speak  up  just  now 
and  proclaim  the  truth?" 

"  Father  Boendale,  the  fire  of  thy  words  set  to  blazing 
all  the  good  stuff  that  is  within  me.  For  a  moment  I 
felt  I  could  die  the  death  for  the  Cause." 

"  Alas,  poor  youth !  "  sighed  the  old  man.  "  And 
already  thou  seekest  to  creep  back  into  thy  dark 
concealment !  " 

"Alas!"  said  Belle-Isle,  drooping  his  head,  "  life  is 
sweet,  and  I  have  such  a  sweet  tooth !  It  often  comes 
to  me  that  God  will  be  content  with  my  father,  mother, 
and  aunt.  I  think  God  sometimes  looks  into  my  soul, 
and  shakes  his  head  with  a  smile  of  tender  pity,  and 
says,  '  I  must  not  try  this  soul  too  far  !  " 

"  Friends,"  said  Bilder,  "  it  is  time  for  Hans  and  me 
to  fare  forth.  Give  us  our  swords,  Jan,  and  thy  bless- 
ing with  them.  The  women  must  sleep,  for  it  is  very 
late,  and  this  Frenchman  fills  my  soul  with  discomfort. 
If  any  of  you  understand  him,  ye  have  shrewd  minds  !  " 

"  Ay,  we  say  farewell,"  said  Hans,  receiving  his  sword. 
"  Long  will  it  be  ere  ye  see  again  the  Holland  Wolves. 

123 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

But  think  not,  Wilhelmina,  we  shall  fail  thee.  When 
the  year  is  up,  the  one  of  us  that  is  alive  will  come  for 
thee.  Thou  shalt  never  pass  to  thy  grave  without  the 
comfort  of  a  husband.  I  would  Jan  were  going  with  us. 
And,  Frenchman,  look  to  it!  If  thou  prove  traitor,  the 
Inquisition  has  no  torture  so  terrible  as  the  one  I  shall 
invent;  for  I  be  a  man  of  subtlety  and  of  cunning  de- 
visings,  as  Bilder  knows." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  Bilder  admiringly,  "  Hans  can  think 
of  wondrous  shrewd  plans  and  snares !  " 

Jan  spoke.  "  I  cannot  go  with  you,  though  I  am 
certain  the  Prince  of  Orange  has  not  left  our  country 
forever.  He  will  come  again  with  an  army,  and  you 
shall  fight  under  his  banners.  But  I  have  a  duty  nearer 
home." 

"  True,  true,"  said  Bilder.  "  Good  Jan,  keep  thine 
eyes  upon  that  reformer  with  his  Catholic  shell." 

"  Kneel  down,  my  children,"  said  old  Joost,  "  if  ye 
will  receive  my  blessing." 

They  knelt,  but  looked  uneasy.  "  Be  careful  what 
thou  sayest,  father  Boendale,"  said  Bilder;  "do  not 
make  bold  with  holy  matters  that  are  for  the  priests." 

"  Ay,  good  father,"  echoed  Hans,  "  let  it  be  some- 
thing about  our  country  and  its  liberties,  something 
earthly,  lest  the  Blessed  Virgin  be  offended  with  us." 

"  Poor  children  !  "  said  Joost.  "  If  I  may  not  ask  God 
to  bless  you,  of  what  avail  will  be  my  blessing?  " 

"  Bid  Wilhelmina  kiss  us  good-bye,"  suggested  Bilder, 
"  that  would  suit  me  better  than  a  hundred  orthodox 
blessings." 

124 


HOLLAND    WOLVES'    FAREWELL 

"  That  will  I,"  cried  Wilhelmina  promptly,  and  she 
saluted  them  upon  their  cheeks  with  a  hearty  smack 
that  filled  them  with  ecstasy.  They  arose  from  their 
knees. 

"  Kenau,  good  damsel,"  cried  Hans,  "  run  and  fetch 
us  sticking-plaster  that  we  may  cover  the  spot  her  lips 
touched,  lest  the  air  blow  away  the  charm." 

And  so  they  went  forth,  a  black  patch  upon  the  cheek 
of  each,  followed  by  the  orthodox  and  the  heretical  pray- 
ers of  their  friends.  The  bedding  was  now  spread  upon 
the  floor,  and  Vrouw  van  Boendale,  and  Wilhelmina 
passed  into  the  next  room.  Kenau  lingered  at  the 
door. 

"  Father  !  "  she  said,  looking  at  him  through  tears. 

"  Kenau,  thou  who  used  to  be  so  brave !  Kenau,  I 
will  pray  for  thee." 

"Father,"  she  said,  "do  not  decide  until  to-morrow. 
Let  me  pass  one  more  night,  thinking  thou  art  to  live 
many  happy  years  with  me." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  tenderly,  but 
made  no  answer.  When  she  had  gone,  Joost  slipped 
to  the  outer  door,  raised  his  hand  in  benediction,  and 
silently  embarked  upon  the  raft  that  stood  ready.  Jan 
looked  at  Belle-Isle  and  held  up  his  finger  in  warning. 
Belle-Isle  nodded.  Then  Hendrik  blew  out  the  candle, 
and  they  composed  themselves  to  sleep. 


Chapter  Eight 

BELLE-ISLE'S  DREAM  OF  ROSAMUNDA 

niht  Belle-Isle  dreamt  of  Rosamunda. 


When  Hendrik  arose  and  lighted  the  candle, 


r\ 

saying  it  was  day  (such  knowledge  comes 

JL.  after  many  years  of  early  rising) ,  the  French- 
man still  found  his  ears  ringing  with  a  Spanish  voice. 
When  the  pallets  had  been  rolled  up  and  placed  in  a 
corner,  Hendrik  rapped  upon  the  inner  door.  Vrouw  van 
Boendale  appeared,  and  cast  a  swift  glance  about  the 
room.  Jan  nodded  solemnly:  Joost  was  gone.  She 
hastily  retreated  to  break  the  news  to  Kenau.  Wilhel- 
mina  entered  the  room,  closing  the  door  softly  behind 
her.  The  men  heard  a  moan  from  the  adjoining  apart- 
ment. They  pretended  to  take  no  notice,  but  Jan 
trembled  and  could  not  hide  his  concern. 

"How  is  our  patient?"  Wilhelmina  asked  of  Belle- 
Isle.  The  Frenchman  seemed  to  see  her  as  through 
a  great  distance.  "  I  shall  soon  be  well,"  he  said.  "  A 
few  days,  and  I  can  walk  away  from  your  hospitality." 

Wilhelmina  went  to  the  chest  of  provisions,  saying, 
"Art  thou  eager  to  walk  away  from  us,  monsieur?" 

"  It  is  not  that  I  desire  to  leave  such  kind  friends," 
said  the  Frenchman,  "  but,"  he  added  in  an  inward 

126 


BELLE-ISLE'S    DREAM 

voice  of  his  own  dreamy  consciousness,  "  that  I  would 
set  my  feet  toward  Rosamunda."  But  no  one  heard 
that  inward  voice.  Wilhelmina,  however,  perhaps  sus- 
pected it.  She  turned  and  looked  at  him  over  her 
shoulder  with  serious,  questioning  eyes.  He  had  already 
ceased  to  follow  her  with  his  glance.  He  was  with  his 
night's  dream.  Wilhelmina  drew  food  from  the  chest, 
and  passed  it  about  upon  wooden  dishes.  There  were 
ham  and  brown  bread,  both  of  which  were  strongly 
impregnated  with  an  onion  flavor.  Belle-Isle  ate  little, 
though  he  found  the  cider  refreshing.  Wilhelmina  was 
hungry.  Belle-Isle  closed  his  eyes  that  he  might  not 
see  her  eat.  Her  teeth  were  so  bright  and  strong- 
He  wondered  how  he  might  arrange  a  meeting  with 
Rosamunda. 

The  breakfast  passed  in  silence.  Jan,  at  his  gayest 
moments,  would  rather  have  been  bored  by  another's 
conversation  than  offer  speech  of  his  own.  But  now  he 
was  sad,  for  he  knew  Kenau  was  weeping,  and  there  was 
only  a  wall  between  him  and  her  sorrow.  Though  she 
found  his  devotion  a  matter  for  jest,  still  she  was  Kenau, 
and  that  very  laughter  was  a  part  of  her.  Before  they 
had  finished,  Vrouw  van  Boendale  returned.  She  said 
nothing  about  Kenau,  although  Jan  looked  at  her 
eagerly. 

"  Hendrik,"  said  the  lady,  "  hast  thou  thy  plan  formed 
for  the  future?  " 

"Ay,  lady.  We  must  back  to  our  old  home  in 
Zutphen.  Our  usefulness  in  Brabant  is  over,  seeing 
that  Count  Egmont  is  doomed,  though  he  will  not 

127 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

believe  it,  and  will  not  flee.  But  even  were  he  safe,  I 
could  serve  him  no  longer  in  this  city.  My  home  is 
now  being  watched ;  Jan  and  I  are  as  much  under  ban 
as  the  Holland  Wolves.  We  must  make  our  way  to 
Holland." 

"Alas,  Hendrik!"  cried  Belle-Isle,  "that  I,  thy 
guest,  should  lose  thee  thy  home ! " 

"  Be  not  troubled,  Belle-Isle,"  said  the  other  kindly. 
"  Thou  didst  not  mean  harm.  Besides,  the  house  was 
but  rented,  and  I  am  too  shrewd  a  Hollander  to  keep 
my  money  in  my  house.  All  I  shall  lose  will  be  my 
furniture  and  keepsakes.  I  should  have  been  compelled 
to  flee  hadst  thou  not  come,  for  if  Egmont  fall,  all  his 
friends  fall  with  him." 

"  Only  say,  Belle-Isle,"  cried  Wilhelmina,  "  that  thou 
art  sorry  for  rescuing  that  jade,  and  I  will  forgive  thee 
freely."  She  watched  his  face. 

"  I  am  not  sorry,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  for  she  is  a  lady 
as  pure  as  snow  floating  in  air  before  its  fall.  I  am 
sorry  I  brought  this  trouble  upon  good  Hendrik,  but  as 
for  the  lady  I  cannot  regret  that  I  was  her  rescuer; 
would  God  I  might  see  her  this  moment !  " 

"  He  is  right,"  said  Hendrik.  "  Woman's  virtue  is 
the  foundation  of  society.  Since  this  woman  is  as 
Belle-Isle  says,  I  cannot  chide  him  for  hurrying  my 
departure." 

"Belle-Isle  is  very  bold  when  he  defends  his  lady," 
said  Wilhelmina,  with  a  look  of  open  and  lofty  scorn 
that  touched  the  Frenchman  to  the  quick.  "  If  he  were 
as  bold  for  his  religion,  we  should  not  have  taken  him 

128 


BELLE-ISLE'S    DREAM 

for  a  Catholic.  He  can  defend  this  night  lady  with  an 
eloquent  tongue ;  but  he  has  no  voice  for  his  faith  and 
his  God.  Now  if  I  were  his  lady  —  in  which  case  I 
must  be  a  marvel  of  loveliness  —  I  should  lack  nothing 
for  a  champion.  But  if  I  were  his  religion,  I  should 
weep  for  an  advocate." 

"  My  daughter,"  cried  Hendrik,  "  I  know  not  what 
hath  come  over  thee.  This  is  two  days  in  succession  I 
have  chidden  thee.  Such  manner  of  speech  is  not 
for  the  daughter  of  my  gentle  wife.  Wilhelmina,  it  is 
my  delight  to  see  in  thee  that  absent  one  whom  thou  art 
very  like,  in  face  and  form  and  smile.  But  when  thou 
speakest  thus  and  lookest  so  amazing  proud,  as  if  thou 
wert  of  a  high  station  in  life,  then,  by  Our  Lady ! 
Wilhelmina,  the  likeness  is  lost,  and  I  look  upon  a 
strange  picture.  I  no  longer  see  my  beloved  wife,  nor 
my  comforting  daughter,  but  some  haughty  wench  of 
nobility !  " 

Having  cast  this  terrible  shaft,  Hendrik  made  for  the 
outer  door,  stepped  upon  the  raft,  and  slammed  the 
door  behind  him.  He  pushed  away  into  the  darkness, 
lest  his  daughter  come  to  him  and  rob  his  rebuke  of 
its  effect.  Wilhelmina  did  indeed  go  the  door,  but 
when  she  opened  it,  he  was  disappearing.  She  seated 
herself  upon  the  chest  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

Jan  watched  her  a  moment  with  gaping  mouth,  then 
slowly  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Do  not  grieve,  Wilhelmina,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  I  did 
not  care  for  thy  words,  though  they  were  as  unkind  as 
9  129 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

a  north  wind  in  January.  I  would  have  told  Hendrik  I 
took  no  offence,  but  he  ran  as  if  every  word  he  had 
dropped  were  a  spark  to  set  the  house  afire !  " 

Wilhelmina  paid  no  heed  to  Belle-Isle.  There  was 
but  one  who  could  comfort  her.  Jan  strode  forward, 
then  paused  uneasily.  A  head  appeared  in  the  window ; 
it  was  Hendrik. 

"  Jan  Janssen  !  "  said  his  father  sternly,  "  I  looked  for 
this.  It  is  ever  thus,  when  I  would  train  my  child. 
What  art  thou  about,  Jan  ?  " 

Jan  blushed  guiltily,  looked  at  his  father,  then  at  his 
sister.  Wilhelmina  shook  with  suppressed  sobs.  She 
was  deeply  hurt.  Never  before  had  her  father  accused 
her  of  being  unlike  her  mother,  —  that  mother  who  was 
more  a  tradition  than  a  memory.  It  had  pleased  her  to 
think  that  she  had  kept  alive  in  Hendrik's  breast  the 
thought  of  his  wife ;  that  her  smile  was  to  him  as  the 
smiles  of  two,  and  that  when  she  spoke  he  heard  two 
voices.  Yet  he  had  just  declared  her  face  a  strange 
picture.  She  broke  forth  into  loud  lament.  At  that 
Jan  openly  rebelled  against  parental  authority,  and  took 
Wilhelmina  in  his  arms.  She  sobbed  aloud,  and  Jan's 
tears  ran  down  his  cheeks  at  the  sound  of  her  grief. 
Hendrik  stared  a  moment  upon  the  pathetic  scene,  then 
came  through  the  window  so  quickly  that  he  fell  upon 
the  floor.  He  sprang  up  with  remarkable  agility  and 
rushed  toward  them  with  extended  arms,  his  voice 
lifted  up  in  remorseful  sorrow.  Vrouw  van  Boendale 
skilfully  interposed  her  person  between  the  group  and 
the  eyes  of  the  Frenchman :  "  We  are  in  such  cramped 

130 


BELLE-ISLE'S    DREAM 

quarters,"  she  said  with  dignity,  "  that  thou  art  neces- 
sarily brought  very  close  to  our  private  home-scenes." 

"  I  see  nothing  but  thee,"  said  Belle-Isle,  with  a  gal- 
lant bow  to  the  old  lady,  whose  face,  under  its  snowy 
hair  seemed  to  have  caught  the  far-away  glow  of  rosy 
childhood.  "  Thou  and  I  are  alone  in  the  room, 
madam." 

At  this  moment  Wilhelmina's  voice  rose.  "  And  thou 
saidst  I  am  a  strange  picture,  father !  thou  saidst  I  do 
not  remind  thee  of  my  mother !  " 

"  Ay,"  mumbled  Jan,  "  they  were  thy  words,  father." 

"  I  am  a  heartless  wretch  !  "  cried  Hendrik  in  despair. 
"  Thou  art  the  picture  of  my  love,  Wilhelmina,  for 
when  I  enfold  thee,  it  is  as  if,  in  some  wise,  I  had  back 
thy  dear  mother  from  Paradise." 

Vrouw  van  Boendale  looked  steadily  at  Belle-Isle, 
and  held  her  shoulders  more  erect.  "  We  do  not  hear 
them,"  she  said. 

"  Not  we,"  said  Belle-Isle.  "  And  so  Joost  van  Boen- 
dale hath  gone  forth  to  preach  the  gospel !  "  He 
stopped  suddenly,  remembering  his  own  lack  of  heroism. 
He  blushed. 

The  lady  magnanimously  pretended  not  to  notice  his 
confusion.  "  We  have  not  always  lived  in  so  mean  a 
place,"  she  said.  "  When  we  lived  in  the  world,  the 
rest  of  the  world  knew  it !  We  had  a  great  mansion  in 
Antwerp ;  we  were  rich.  My  brother-in-law  was  a 
powerful  merchant.  My  own  husband  belonged  to  the 
Violet  Guild  of  Rhetoric, —  he  was  a  great  poet.  He 
is  dead  now.  It  will  be  five  years  in  May.  We  had 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

a  ceaseless  flow  of  masques  and  plays.  We  were  very 
worldly.  We  were  so  gay !  We  did  not  care  for 
religion  then."  She  sighed.  "  Now,  we  do  not  care  for 
the  pleasures  of  this  world,"  she  continued.  "  All  that 
is  vanity.  But  I  tell  thee  these  things  so  thou  wilt  not 
think  we  were  from  birth  accustomed  to  a  hut  of  two 
rooms." 

"  No  one  could  think  so  who  knew  thee,"  replied 
Belle- Isle  with  a  bow.  "  Poverty  brings  out  the  bright- 
ness of  the  spirit.  Without  the  clouds  we  should  not 
have  the  rainbow." 

"  It  is  a  great  comfort  to  me,"  said  the  lady,  with  a 
stately  inclination  of  her  head,  "  that  no  loss  can  take 
from  me  my  illustrious  ancestor.  My  life  is  passed 
between  these  narrow  walls.  The  black  water  sur- 
rounds our  hut,"  she  continued  with  a  certain  enthusiasm, 
"  but  I  have  my  illustrious  ancestor !  Thou  knowest 
what  comfort  he  must  give  me,  thou  who  hast  heard  of 
him,  and  therefore  canst  understand  the  light  his  glory 
casts  upon  me  and  mine.  Jan  van  Boendale,  —  it  is 
a  talisman !  " 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Belle-Isle,  cautiously ;  "  it  is  a  talis- 
man, indeed !  " 

"  He  hath  been  dead  these  three  hundred  years,  but 
he  gives  me  strength  to  endure  our  present  surroundings. 
What  matter  how  low  our  fortunes  may  descend,  as  long 
as  we  have  that  illustrious  ancestor?  It  is  as  if,  in  plung- 
ing into  the  depths  of  poverty  and  sorrow,  we  carried 
with  us  a  ladder  upon  which  the  mind  may  ascend  to 
light  and  joy." 

132 


BELLE-ISLE'S    DREAM 

"  That  is  a  brave  thought,"  said  Belle-Isle.  "  Now  I 
would  I  had  such  a  ladder  !  But  though  I  have  had  as 
many  ancestors  as  another,  they  sped  their  way  through 
love  and  laughter,  tears  and  time,  without'  carving  a 
single  name  upon  a  stone.  They  are  gone,  those  an- 
cestors of  mine,  —  gone,  as  I  shall  go.  Sometimes  it 
makes  my  heart  ache  to  think  how  much  happiness  has 
been  in  the  world  !  " 

Wilhelmina  now  approached  Belle-Isle.  "  We  are  a 
reunited  family,"  she  said  with  a  sweet  smile,  though  the 
tears  still  glistened.  "  And  I  am  to  make  friends  with 
thee  for  the  cruel  words  I  spoke.  Wilt  ride  with  me 
upon  the  raft?" 

Jan  placed  a  pallet  in  the  midst  of  the  raft,  and  helped 
Belle-Isle  to  his  position.  Wilhelmina  took  her  stand 
at  one  end  seized  the  long  pole  in  her  powerful  hands, 
and  pushed  off  from  the  hut.  For  some  time  there  was 
no  conversation  between  them.  The  young  man  was 
awed  by  the  gloomy  scene  and  dispirited  by  the  clammy 
atmosphere.  A  pine  torch  spluttered  in  the  end  of  the 
raft,  opposite  the  rower.  Belle-Isle  sat  with  his  back  to 
the  light,  facing  the  standing  figure  of  the  girl.  How 
strong  she  was,  how  unconscious  of  her  motions ! 
Norman  Belle-Isle,  gazing  intently,  thought  her  the 
antithesis  of  all  his  ideals.  Her  skirt  was  short,  accord- 
ing to  the  national  costume,  revealing  ankles  such  as  he 
had  never  seen  in  France  except  among  the  stolid 
peasantry.  And  yet  this  girl  was  not  stolid,  —  she  was 
no  peasant.  She  planted  her  feet  well  apart  as  she 
drove  the  pole  against  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  she 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

stiffened  and  bent  her  knees  as  if  she  had  been  a  man. 
She  did  not  even  seem  aware  that  his  eyes  were  upon 
her.  She  was  not  conscious  of  herself.  It  was  this  that 
made  her  strange  to  Belle- Isle.  Without  this  charm, — 
for  her  innocent  forgetfulness  of  her  form  and  gestures 
had  the  elemental  charm  of  a  child,  —  he  would  scarcely 
have  found  her  worthy  his  attention,  so  much  was  she 
unlike  his  dreams  of  beauty. 

"  Wilhelmina,"  he  said  at  last,  "  what  sort  of  a  place 
is  this  dark  lake  of  thine?"  He  turned  his  eyes  from 
her  face,  which  the  uncertain  light  of  the  torch  refined, 
and  looked  over  the  solemn  tide.  The  huts  upon  their 
piles  stood  gloomy  and  without  sign  of  life,  save  for  the 
dim  candle-glow  that  blurred  the  windows  with  a 
dreamy  light.  Here  and  there  a  light  moved  cautiously, 
carrying  some  one  upon  a  friendly  visit  or  some  danger- 
ous expedition  into  the  outside  world. 

Wilhelmina  paused  in  her  work,  and  waved  her  arm. 
"All  this  extent,"  she  said,  "was  once  confined  and 
divided  by  cellar  walls.  A  colony  of  reformers  dwelt 
above.  When  Valenciennes  fell  and  the  wrath  of  our 
Regent  was  proclaimed  against  all  heretics,  these  re- 
formers deserted  their  homes  and  were  thought  to  have 
fled  the  country.  Their  houses  were  rifled,  burned, 
razed  to  the  ground.  Then  the  outcasts  crept  back  to 
the  cellars  of  what  had  been  their  homes.  They  made 
openings  in  the  walls,  that  they  might  meet  each  other, 
for  they  are  fond  of  congregating  and  singing  hymns, 
poor  bodies ;  and  they  love  to  go  through  a  curious 
observance  which  they  call  the  Lord's  Supper.  So  in 

134 


BELLE-ISLE'S    DREAM 

this  way  the  walls  were  torn  down,  and  the  cellars  were 
thrown  together,  and  this  large  cave  was  formed.  But 
the  river  is  not  far  away,  and  its  waters  are  sucked  in. 
Then  they  built  huts  as  thou  seest,  set  upon  piles.  There 
is  only  one  way  to  enter,  the  way  thou  earnest." 

"  But  how  came  thy  father,  a  Catholic,  to  know  of 
this  retreat  ?  " 

"  Other  Catholics  know.  The  reformers  have  many 
friends  among  the  children  of  the  Church.  Not  friends 
in  regard  to  their  faith  —  which  is  accursed  —  but  in  re- 
spect to  their  love  of  liberty  and  country." 

"  It  is  not  so  in  my  country,"  said  Belle-Isle.  "  Put 
a  leopard  and  a  panther  in  the  same  cage,  and  they 
will  eat  together  as  readily  as  a  French  priest  and  a 
Huguenot !  " 

"  That  is  different,"  said  the  girl,  pushing  the  raft 
slowly  forward.  "  You  have  a  king  in  your  country  and 
all  are  his  children  and  may  quarrel  among  each  other. 
But  our  king  never  comes  here.  He  lives  in  a  foreign 
land,  speaks  a  foreign  tongue,  and  thinks  Spanish 
thoughts.  He  sends  people  here  to  rule  us,  so  we 
are  bound  together  by  a  common  interest  to  protect 
ourselves.  These  governors  tell  evil  lies  concerning  us, 
and  King  Philip  is  angry  and  thinks  us  rebels.  If  he 
knew  the  truth  he  would  spare  us,  for  he  is  a  good 
Catholic.  But  he  thinks  everybody  here  inclines  to 
heresy,  and  therefore  he  dislikes  all  the  Netherlanders, 
true  and  false.  If  it  were  not  so,  how  could  he  hate 
Count  Egmont,  who  has  slain  his  own  people  to  pleasure 
King  and  Regent?  " 

'35 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

" Wilhelmina,"  said  Belle-Isle  suddenly,  "if  I  desired 
to  get  out  of  this  uncanny  blackness  and  dampness, 
would  the  guards  at  the  door  let  me  pass?" 

"  Freely.  And  thou  mightst  return  as  freely  by  giv- 
ing the  proper  raps  upon  the  doors." 

"  Now  that  is  a  thing  I  cannot  understand,"  said 
the  young  man.  "Might  I  not  go  forth  and  betray 
all  of  you?  " 

"  I  answered  for  thee,  Belle-Isle ;  I  had  read  thee 
through  and  through,  and  there  was  no  treachery  in  thy 
heart.  To  bring  a  stranger  hither  is  always  a  danger, 
but  dangers  lay  their  heads  upon  our  pillows  and  eat 
from  our  plates.  When  we  cease  to  trust,  let  us  die !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Belle-Isle  lightly,  "  there  is  no  danger 
from  me.  And  now  tell  me  another  thing.  That  illus- 
trious ancestor  of  Vrouw  van  Boendale?" 

"  He  was  a  great  writer.  He  lived  long  ago,  but  his 
book  is  thought  to  be  the  best,  in  these  parts,  that  ever 
was  written.  Its  name  is  '  Brabantsche  Yeesten,'  and  it 
is  thought  a  mighty  fine  thing  to  be  kin  to  a  man  who 
could  write  a  book  three  hundred  years  before  we  come 
to  read  it." 

Norman  Belle-Isle  remained  more  than  a  week  in  the 
retreat  of  the  reformers.  His  foot  slowly  healed,  and  in 
the  meantime  he  grew  into  intimate  friendship  with  all 
of  the  little  hut.  None  of  this  group  was  like  any  com- 
panion of  his  former  years;  in  each  he  found  wanting 
the  vivacity  that  drew  his  heart  toward  beloved  France. 
He  grew  to  admire  the  taciturn  Jan,  and  to  take  a  secret 
amusement  from  his  slow  gropings  after  ideas.  He 

136 


BELLE-ISLE'S    DREAM 

covertly  watched  the  little  scenes  that  took  place  be- 
tween this  huge  lover  and  Kenau  van  Boendale.  He  de- 
cided that  Kenau  almost  loved  the  imperturbable  Jan, 
though  she  had  resolved  that  no  one  should  suspect  it. 
She  seemed  to  find  pleasure  in  playing  with  the  possi- 
bility. She  grew  used  to  the  thought  of  her  father's 
dangerous  mission  of  preaching  the  Gospel,  and  though 
her  usual  attitude  was  one  of  gravity,  with  Jan  she  could 
instantly  become  sparkling,  tantalizing.  Belle-Isle  had 
hoped  that  upon  further  acquaintance  she  would  not  ap- 
pear so  tall.  But  as  the  days  passed  Kenau  did  not 
decrease  one  inch  in  height  nor  add  a  pound  to  her 
weight. 

He  heard  a  good  deal  about  Jan  van  Boendale,  and 
that  illustrious  ancestor  wearied  him  as  much  as  he  com- 
forted Kenau's  aunt.  It  proved  that  this  old  lady  had 
originally  been  a  Van  Boendale,  and  that  she  had  married 
(this  was  Belle-Isle's  suspicion)  not  from  love  but  from 
family  pride,  resolved  to  die  with  the  name  to  which  a 
glorious  destiny  had  given  her  birth.  She  often  spoke 
of  the  gayeties  she  had  enjoyed  before  entering  into  the 
sweeter,  if  less  sprightly,  joys  of  religion.  To  the 
Frenchman,  whose  own  religious  experiences  were 
lightly  borne,  her  references  to  that  former  worldly  life 
appeared  tinged  with  a  gentle,  almost  saintly,  regret. 

In  the  meantime  Hendrik  made  cautious  preparations 
for  flight  into  Holland. 

Occasionally  Joost  van  Boendale  visited  his  family, 
bringing  news  of  the  outside  world.  He  reported  great 
success  in  his  labors :  "  There  was  one  in  particular,  a 

137 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Spaniard,  who  had  been  led  to  see  the  errors  of  the 
Roman  religion,  and  who  fairly  hungered  for  the 
Truth." 

"  Beware  of  this  Spaniard,"  was  all  Hendrik  said, 
when  his  old  friend  spoke  with  kindled  eyes  of  the 
foreigner's  change  of  heart.  Joost  cast  a  smile  of  ten- 
der pity  upon  Hendrik.  "  Nay,  my  friend,"  he  cried, 
"  this  Spaniard  already  desires  to  come  and  live  with  us 
and  share  our  perils  and  our  privations."  '  Joost  looked 
triumphantly  about  him  and  nodded  his  head  several 
times. 

More  than  all,  Belle-Isle  studied  Wilhelmina.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  depths  in  her  nature,  no  hidden  delights 
to  flash  forth  at  unexpected  moments.  Yet  all  her  qual- 
ities grew  upon  him.  Before  everything  else  was  her 
open  frankness,  a  perfect  outspoken  sincerity  that  did 
not  foster  romance.  Next  he  placed  her  utter  lack  of 
sentimentality.  If  he  bordered  upon  the  sweet  umbra- 
geous meadows  of  love,  she  brought  him  out  into  the 
open  glare  of  a  common-world  sun,  and  laughed  at  his 
foolish  words.  Not  that  he  felt  for  her  the  least  dawn- 
ing of  passion,  but  he  liked  to  play  at  sentiment  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  game.  In  the  third  place,  she  was  never 
really  pretty.  No  color  of  dress  or  shading  of  the  light 
would  bring  it  about.  Always  cheery,  always  pleasant, 
with  a  smile  that  was  always  winning,  still  she  was  not 
quite,  under  any  circumstances,  just  what  she  should 
have  been.  It  was  a  pity.  And  she  was  so  large ! 
Belle-Isle  could  have  been  a  friend  to  this  maiden,  if  he 
could  have  been  a  friend  to  any  of  her  sex.  Not  hav- 

138 


BELLE-ISLE'S    DREAM 

ing  the  gift  of  being  a  woman's  friend,  he  was  discon- 
tented with  her,  even  while  she  pleased. 

But  Rosamunda?  Ah,  there  was  the  real  centre  of  his 
thoughts.  Day  and  night,  his  mind  went  forth  to  her. 
His  fancy  reproduced  that  glorious  look  of  scorn,— 
how  sweet  to  be  scorned  by  one  so  beautiful !  It  was  a 
disdain  which  he  felt  might  be  overcome  by  gallant  acts 
and  imperious  desire.  He  could  meet  her  with  as  haughty 
a  soul,  and  he  would  conquer  her.  Oh,  what  a  thought ! 
To  conquer  that  pride,  and  hold  that  slight  form  in  his 
arms,  —  that  form  so  dainty,  so  rounded,  nowhere  too 
much,  nowhere  too  little,  —  to  flash  his  eyes  into  her 
splendid  black  orbs,  to  lay  his  hand  upon  the  dark, 
dark  cheek.  Every  day  Belle-Isle  felt  more  keenly  that 
Rosamunda  must  become  his  wife. 

When  his  foot  was  healed,  the  Frenchman  had  formed 
a  plan  whereby  he  thought  to  meet  once  more  the  lady 
of  his  night's  adventure.  He  learned  from  Joost  that 
great  festivities  were  going  forward  at  the  home  of  Count 
Egmont.  That  brave  nobleman,  blind  to  the  signs  of 
the  times,  had  thrown  his  palace  open  to  the  Spaniards, 
as  representatives  of  his  King.  Night  after  night  passed 
in  gay  festivities,  as  if  Egmont  would  go  dancing  to  his 
ruin.  It  was  impossible  for  his  lofty  mind  to  conceive 
of  the  low  malice  of  Philip,  —  Philip  who  hated  him  as 
much  for  his  popularity  and  glory  as  for  his  having  pro- 
tested against  the  horrors  of  the  Inquisition. 

On  Thursday  night,  Joost  told  them,  there  was  to  be 
a  great  masked  f£te  at  Egmont's  palace.  The  cream 
of  Brussels  society  would  be  there,  including  the  very 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

few  who  were  glad  to  welcome  Alva,  and  the  many  who 
feared  to  stay  away.  The  choicest  of  the  Spanish  army 
would  be  present.  One  thousand  guests  were  invited. 
There  had  been  gigantic  preparations  in  the  way  of 
feasting,  dancing,  plays.  All  were  to  come  masked 
save  the  officers  of  the  first  rank.  The  masks  would  not 
be  removed  until  the  guests  were  seated  at  the  tables ; 
until  that  moment,  each  was  required  to  preserve,  if 
possible,  the  secret  of  his  identity. 

Belle-Isle  did  not  hear  of  this  entertainment  until  the 
very  day.  He  instantly  resolved  to  be  present  at  the 
masquerade,  where  he  would  surely  meet  Rosamunda. 
Joost  van  Boendale  had  come  home  to  spend  the  night ; 
his  plan  was  to  go  forth  just  before  dawn.  All  the 
evening  Kenau  hovered  about  him,  his  hand  in  hers. 
Hendrik,  who  had  been  gone  two  days,  had  entered 
before  Joost.  It  was  his  intention  to  go  forth  with 
Joost  in  the  morning,  to  be  gone  several  days.  Jan  was 
happy  because  Kenau  had  her  father  safe.  Vrouw  vdn 
Boendale  was  cheerful  over  the  coincidence  of  Joost 
being  there  just  at  the  time  when  all  happened  to  be 
present;  she  did  not  once  draw  upon  her  illustrious 
ancestor  for  comfort. 

Belle-Isle  watched  them,  feeling  that  he  had  no  part 
in  their  simple  joys.  He  belonged  to  another  world. 
His  foot  was  now  well,  and  he  must  go  forth  and  follow 
the  path  chance  might  direct.  The  more  he  looked  at 
Wilhelmina,  the  more  he  thought  of  Rosamunda.  But 
if  he  should  tell  them  of  his  intention  to  venture  to  the 
masked  f£te,  they  could  not  understand. 

140 


BELLE-ISLE'S    DREAM 

He  could  not  leave  such  kind  friends  without  farewells. 
The  next  night  he  would  return  and  bid  all  good-bye. 
They  need  never  know  that  he  had  been  to  Count 
Egmont's.  He  would  see  Rosamunds,  if  possible,  — 
that  possibility  was  worth  any  risk,  —  and  the  next  day 
he  would  lie  hidden.  Then  he  would  come  home  at 
night,  and  thank  them  for  their  hospitality,  and  so,  — 
out  into  the  world,  once  more,  a  wanderer.  Only  — 
he  would  be  accompanied  by  the  thought  of  Rosa- 
munda. 

Twice  Wilhelmina  asked  Belle-Isle  why  he  sat  so  still. 
He  could  scarce  smile  in  reply.  Once  Kenau,  who  dur- 
ing his  stay  had  given  him  little  attention,  declared 
that  he  had  the  look  of  a  conspirator.  Belle-Isle  could 
not  tell  them  that  he  was  longing  for  the  evening  to 
pass.  Even  Jan  noticed  his  preoccupation,  and  inquired 
if  his  foot  pained  him.  It  seemed  that  they  could 
not  leave  him  alone.  He  even  had  a  guilty  look  as 
he  evaded  their  friendly  questions. 

Night  came,  and  all  slept,  —  all  but  Belle-Isle.  He 
shuddered  at  the  terrific  snores  that  ascended  from  the 
pallets  about  him.  Jan,  Hendrik,  even  dear  old  Joost, 
maintained  a  regular  accompaniment  to  the  music  of 
their  dreams.  The  young  man  arose,  made  hasty  prepa- 
rations, and  felt  his  way  to  the  door.  The  raft  was 
ready.  His  departure  was  undiscovered.  The  men 
who  guarded  the  outer  doors  of  the  retreat  allowed  him 
to  pass  without  question.  The  light  of  his  torch  showed 
him  the  rope  ladder  in  the  raft  box.  He  fastened  it  to 
the  rings  in  the  ceiling  by  means  of  the  long  pole,  and, 

141 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

climbing  up,  opened  the  door  in  the  floor  of  the  deserted 
cabin.  He  found  himself  breathing  the  air  of  another 
world.  He  gave  a  little  shudder  as  he  realized  how 
damp  and  close  and  unhealthy  had  been  the  air  of  the 
retreat.  And  he  gave  another  shudder  —  one  of 
delightful  anticipation  —  as  he  breathed  in  the  tingle 
of  adventure  that  seemed  to  ride  the  September  breeze. 


142 


Chapter  Nine 

THE  DUEL   WITH  ROSAMUNDA 

AS    Belle-Isle    left    the    marshy    portion    of 
the   city   it   was    still    early.      The    shops 
were  open,  the   streets    alive   with   people. 
Torches  flashed,  and  the  rattle  of  soldiers' 
armor  smote  sharply  upon  the  air.     The  natives  were 
for  the  most  part  silent;  but  from  the  Spaniards  and 
the  German   mercenaries  broke   snatches  of  song,  and 
sudden  guffaws,  and  calls  to  comrades.     The  foreigners 
were  making  themselves  very  much  at  home. 

Belle-Isle  mingled  with  the  stream  of  noisy  passers-by, 
and  entered  at  last  the  Great  Square  in  the  centre  of  the 
city.  Here  many  street  lights  threw  a  glare  upon 
embroidered  facades  and  bewildering  gables.  The 
Frenchman's  heart  bounded.  The  magnificent  scene 
reminded  him  of  his  beloved  Paris.  A  French  song 
rose  upon  his  lips,  and  sought  the  air  before  he  knew 
that  he  was  singing.  His  blood  was  quickened,  every 
nerve  was  tense  to  be  played  upon  by  chance  and 
accident.  Now  when  he  remembered  the  evenings 
spent  in  that  underground  hut  of  Joost,  how  the  family 
had  sat  looking  at  each  other  with  solemn  faces  till 

'43 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

bedtime,  then  had  retired  with  impressive  gravity,  he 
laughed  aloud.  Jan  Janssen  with  never  a  word,  save 
that  which  necessity  drew  from  his  miser's  hoard ; 
Vrouw  van  Boendale,  tiresome  lady,  without  the  sauce 
of  youth  or  beauty;  Hendrik,  always  thinking  upon 
misfortunes ;  Wilhelmina  and  Kenau,  impossible  girls ! 
Belle-Isle  extended  his  arms  as  if  about  to  fly.  He 
was  free ! 

It  was  true,  he  owed  to  Hendrik  the  clothes  upon 
his  back,  to  Jan  the  sword  at  his  side,  to  Madame  van 
Boendale  the  money  in  his  pocket.  He  was  grateful, 
he  felt  for  them  a  warm  friendship.  But  he  could  not 
help  liking  them  better  at  a  distance.  His  hand  sought 
his  money,  while  with  a  smile  he  recalled  Vrouw  van 
Boendale's  advice.  With  this  money  he  must  purchase 
a  small  stock  of  goods  in  Germany,  whither  he  should 
return.  He  need  spend  none  of  it  till  he  had  reached 
his  destination,  for  he  could  work  his  way,  upon  foot, 
as  he  had  come  to  Brussels. 

This  was  Vrouw  van  Boendale's  advice,  sanctioned  by 
solemn  nods  from  Jan  and  Hendrik.  But  Belle-Isle 
had  no  intention  of  putting  that  money  to  such  a  sordid 
use.  He  had  no  care  for  his  future  career.  The  Belle- 
Isle  of  next  week  could  look  out  for  himself.  The  Belle- 
Isle  of  to-night  intended  to  see  Rosamunda.  A  large 
clothier's  shop  opened  upon  the  Grand  Square,  toward 
which  many  of  the  soldiers  were  making  their  way.  Belle- 
Isle  joined  the  procession.  In  due  time  he  had  not  only 
purchased  a  mask,  but  a  complete  suit  of  clothes  of  various 
splendid  colors.  Flesh-colored  hose,  a  crimson  velvet 

144 


THE    DUEL    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

doublet,  and  a  velvet  peach-colored  cloak  greatly  en- 
hanced the  natural  beauty  of  Belle-Isle  —  and  decreased 
his  small  capital  almost  to  the  vanishing  point.  He  was 
shown  into  an  inner  room,  there  to  make  his  toilet. 
And  when  he  saw  himself  attired  in  every  point  as  a 
gentleman,  his  polished  sword  showing  handsomely 
against  the  crimson  of  his  doublet,  his  heart  was  lifted 
up.  He  executed  a  solitary  dance,  snapping  his  fingers 
to  keep  time. 

He  clapped  on  his  mask,  and  sallied  forth,  following 
those  who  were  masked  like  himself.  Ascending  the 
hill  he  came  to  the  Ducal  Palace,  which  overlooked 
the  city.  Link-boys  lighted  the  way.  On  the  left  of  the 
magnificent  building  stretched  the  park,  darkened  by  a 
heavy  wood,  that  now  appeared  gloomy  and  threatening. 
But  on  the  right  of  the  Palace  was  a  scene  of  lively 
festivity.  Here  stood  the  splendid  mansions  of  Egmont, 
Orange,  Culemburg.  It  was  not  difficult  to  distinguish 
the  homes  of  Orange  and  Egmont  The  former  had 
stood  grim  and  deserted  since  the  Silent  Prince  fled 
from  the  wrath  he  foresaw.  But  the  home  of  Count 
Egmont  poured  forth  light  from  every  window.  The 
great  doors  of  the  court  were  thrown  open,  and  a  guard 
in  rich  livery  scarcely  challenged  the  guests  as  they 
crowded  forward.  It  was  impossible,  on  account  of  their 
masks,  to  determine  who  had  a  right  to  enter,  save  for 
the  ticket  each  was  required  to  bring.  The  soldiers 
were  impatient  to  press  forward,  for  strains  of  inspiring 
music  called  to  them,  and  they  had  such  a  hearty  con- 
tempt for  the  native  guard  that  they  laughed  at  the 
10  I4S 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

orders  to  halt  and  show  the  passport.  Belle-Isle  crowded 
in  with  the  rest.  The  first  chapter  in  his  night's  romance 
was  closed. 

It  was  now  late.  When  Belle-Isle  entered  the  recep- 
tion-hall, dancing  was  in  full  progress.  There  were 
many  women  present,  all  masked.  His  eyes  passed 
swiftly  from  form  to  form  before  he  remembered  that  if 
Rosamunda  was  present,  she  would  be  attired  as  a 
soldier.  He  began  to  circle  about  the  great  apartment, 
carefully  noting  the  men.  She  was  not  there.  His  heart 
suddenly  sank  so  heavily  that  it  crushed  all  the  lightness 
out  of  his  spirit.  He  had  thrown  away  his  money  for  a 
chance  that  had  failed  him  ! 

But  might  she  not  come  yet?  He  resolved  to  take 
up  his  place  at  the  entrance  door.  He  had  scarcely 
done  so  when  two  Spaniards  entered.  One,  tall  and 
broad-shouldered,  was  unmasked  ;  the  other,  —  Belle- 
Isle's  heart  leaped.  Here  were  Gonzalvo  and  his  daugh- 
ter !  Yes,  it  must  be  Rosamunda !  In  an  instant 
Belle-Isle  was  beside  the  slight  form. 

"  Ho,  comrade !  "  he  cried  in  Spanish,  "  thou  art 
late !  Come  with  me  and  I  will  show  thee  what  we  have 
here  to-night."  He  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm.  His 
hand  was  thrown  off  rudely. 

"  Our  eyes  will  show  us,"  said  Gonzalvo  harshly. 
"  We  are  not  looking  for  men,  but  for  ladies."  They 
stepped  out  on  the  floor,  selected  partners  and  joined  in 
the  dance.  Belle-Isle  kept  his  eyes  upon  the  form  of 
Rosamunda,  hardly  taller  than  that  of  her  lady.  When 
the  figure  was  over,  and  those  two  stood  talking,  Belle- 

146 


THE    DUEL    WITH     ROSAMUNDA 

Isle  slipped  to  her  side  and  whispered  in  her  ear, 
"  Rosamunda !  " 

Instantly  the  hand  of  the  masked  form  went  to  its 
heart.  The  Frenchman  added  eagerly,  "  Fear  not ;  I  am 
Belle-Isle." 

The  soldier  turned  upon  him  brusquely.  "  Leave  me ; 
I  have  company.  Another  time." 

Belle-Isle  did  not  recognize  the  voice,  but  he  was  sure 
there  had  been  no  mistake. 

"  Now,  now  !  "  he  whispered  impetuously.  "  I  must 
speak  to  thee." 

The  other  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  shall  be  in  the 
garden  presently."  Then  the  soldier  turned  to  the  lady, 
who  had  stood  wondering,  and  led  her  out  to  another 
dance.  Belle-Isle  glanced  carelessly  about  and  dis- 
covered Gonzalvo  watching  him  with  a  dangerous  light 
in  his  haughty  eyes.  He  could  not  have  recognized 
the  Frenchman ;  but  he  knew  him  to  be  the  same  who, 
before,  had  laid  his  hand  upon  his  daughter's  arm.  A 
spirit  of  reckless  bravado  prompted  Belle-Isle  to  stride 
over  to  the  Spaniard.  Assuming  a  harsh,  insolent 
voice  he  said, 

"Well,  and  why  lookest  at  me?" 

Gonzalvo,  on  account  of  his  rank,  had  been  free  to 
attend  the  masquerade  without  a  mask.  Thus  the  red 
color  that  instantly  dyed  his  cheeks  was  pleasantly  per- 
ceptible to  the  young  man.  "  Thou  art  no  Spaniard," 
said  the  captain,  in  a  voice  of  rage.  "  Beware,  for  thy 
countrymen  stand  upon  the  crater  of  Alva's  wrath. 
See  to  it  that  thou  come  not  near  yonder  soldier, 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

whom  thy  importunity  hath    thrice  annoyed  this  even- 
ing." 

"  And  what  is  yonder  soldier,"  retorted  Belle-Isle, 
"  that  I  should  not  approach  him?  Is  he  made  of  glass, 
or  powder?  Will  he  break,  or  blow  up?  I  have  a  secret, 
worthy  man,  but  I  will  share  it  with  thee.  It  is  this  — 
that  I  do  not  like  thee,  senor.  Thou  art  no  more  to  my 
taste  than  garlic,  fair  sir.  God  give  thee  good  evening, 
senor."  Belle-Isle  turned  upon  his  heel  and  marched 
away,  feeling  very  high-spirited  ;  he  laughed  to  himself 
as  he  sought  the  garden.  He  took  his  stand  at  the  foot 
of  the  staircase,  that  the  one  he  sought  might  not  escape 
him. 

A  full  moon  had  risen,  showing  many  couples  wander- 
ing among  the  shrubbery.  The  air  was  sweet  with  per- 
fumes. The  music  came  in  softened  intervals,  like  a 
breeze  that  seems  to  pause  on  its  way  from  tree-top  to 
tree-top.  When  the  strains  became  inaudible,  laughter 
and  merry  voices  filled  the  pause. 

At  last,  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  Belle-Isle  saw  the 
red  mask  behind  which  his  fancy  beheld  the  features  of 
Rosamunda.  She  came  down  the  stairs,  walking  with  a 
manly  stride,  and  speaking  to  her  companion  as  men 
speak  to  a  pretty  face  by  moonlight.  When  they  reached 
the  pavement,  Belle-Isle  stepped  before  them. 

"  Ah,"  said  Rosamunda  in  her  soldier's  voice,  "  here  is 
the  senor  of  whom  I  spoke.  Let  us  seek  an  arbor." 

"  But  I  would  see  thee  alone,"  said  Belle-Isle. 

"  That  cannot  be,"  replied  Rosamunda,  "  for  I  cannot 
leave  Senorita  Bluemask." 

148 


"  '  Thou  art  no  more  to  my  taste  than  garlic,  fair  Sir 


THE    DUEL    WITH     ROSAMUNDA 

"  Little  soldier,"  said  Belle-Isle  desperately,  "  I  must 
see  thee  alone." 

"  And  what  wouldst  thou  with  me,  Senor  Crimson- 
doublet?  " 

"  What  would  I  without  thee !  "  cried  Belle-Isle. 
They  reached  an  arbor  which  was  unoccupied;  entered, 
and  seated  themselves.  The  moonlight  fell  over  them. 
They  were  upon  a  bench,  Rosamunda  in  the  middle, 
Bluemask  upon  her  left. 

"  Thou  wilt  not  see  me  alone?  " 

"  Bluemask,"  said  Rosamunda,  "  shall  I  leave  thee, 
and  hold  converse  with  this  ungallant  comrade?" 

"  Leave  me?  "  cried  the  lady,  laying  a  little  hand  upon 
Rosamunda's  arm.  Rosamunda  kissed  the  hand,  then 
held  it  up  toward  Belle-Isle.  "  Wilt  have  a  kiss?  " 

"  Ay,  will  I !  "  cried  Belle-Isle,  stooping  forward. 

"  Oh ! "  exclaimed  Rosamunda,  rubbing  her  hand. 
"  To  be  kissed  thus  !  This  cannot  be  borne  !  " 

"  It  was  so  dark,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  that  I  missed  the 
right  hand.  Let  us  try  it  again." 

"Never  mind,  sweet  Bluemask,"  said  Rosamunda,  "  I 
am  thy  true  knight." 

"  Bid  him  depart !  "  cried  Bluemask  petulantly. 

"  I  go  this  instant,"  said  Belle-Isle  rising,  "  if  the  little 
soldier  will  accompany  me." 

"  Thou  seest,"  said  Rosamunda,  "  that  I  cannot  desert 
Bluemask." 

"  Little  soldier,"  said  Belle-Isle  with  dangerous  tender- 
ness in  his  voice,  "  I  beseech  thee  grant  me  this  favor, 
for  I  may  never  see  thee  again." 

149 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"How  can  I  leave  my  love?"  returned  Rosamunda 
reproachfully.  "  How  can  I  leave  this  gentle  creature, 
this  dainty  head,  this  slender  hand  and  snowy  arm?  " 

Belle-Isle's  voice  grew  stern.  "  It  is  thus  thou  wilt 
treat  me  to  the  end?  Am  I  nothing  to  thee  but  a 
jest?" 

"  Thou  art  more  to  me  than  a  jest,"  said  Rosamunda 
with  a  careless  laugh.  Then  she  added  with  sudden 
significance.  "  But  my  own  life  is  something."  He  was 
struck  both  by  the  words  and  her  tone.  Evidently  she 
dared  not  leave  this  woman,  on  account  of  her  father. 
Belle-Isle  resumed  his  place  beside  her  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

"  He  will  stay,"  complained  Bluemask.  "  What  does 
he  want  with  thee?  " 

"  He  hath  no  lady  to  love,"  said  Rosamunda,  "  so  he 
envies  me." 

"  I  envy  thee !  "  said  Belle-Isle  with  a  sudden  sneer. 
"  As  for  this  creature,  did  not  two  thousand  of  them 
come  over  with  the  army?  Here  were  a  goodly  number 
to  choose  from  !  " 

Bluemask  uttered  a  cry  of  fury  as  she  leaped  up. 
"  Thou  hearest  this  fellow's  words  !  "  she  cried  fiercely. 
"  Thou  hearest,  little  soldier  !  " 

"  Ay,"  said  Rosamunda,  drawing  her  sword. 

"  Put  up  thy  sword  !  "  said  Belle-Isle  sternly.  "  Wouldst 
fight  for  such  as  she?  " 

"  For  such  as  she !  "  echoed  Bluemask,  in  a  hissing 
voice,  as  if  her  breath  were  about  to  fail  her.  "  And 
what  am  I,  thinkest  thou?  Thou  heartless  villain  !  to 
compare  me  to  those  abandoned  wretches." 


THE    DUEL    WITH     ROSAMUNDA 

The  little  creature  tore  off  her  mask  with  a  trembling 
hand.  "  Look  at  me  !  "  she  cried  rapidly.  "  See  what  I 
am,  —  no  Spaniard,  no,  no,  not  a  drop  of  Spanish  blood 
in  my  veins  !  Thou  wilt  not  surfer  him  to  insult  me  thus, 
Enrique !  " 

"Defend  thyself!"  cried  Rosamunda,  facing  the 
Frenchman  with  drawn  sword. 

"  Thou  wilt  not  fight  with  me !  "  returned  Belle-Isle. 
He  did  not  draw  his  sword.  "  Thou  couldst  never  fight 
with  me,  little  one,  after  all  that  has  passed." 

"  Draw  thy  sword,  senor,"  said  Rosamunda  resolutely. 

Belle-Isle  could  not  think  her  in  earnest.  "  Why  dost 
thou  make  so  much  ado,  little  soldier,  and  play  thy  part 
so  far?  Is  she  worth  a  second  thought?  Does  not  the 
first  thought  weigh  all  her  worth  and  find  it  lighter  than 
her  lightest  fault?" 

"Senor,"  said  Rosamunda,  "  wilt  thou  draw?" 

"  Never  against  thee,"  he  replied,  not  once  looking  at 
the  one  who  had  worn  the  blue  mask. 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Rosamunda  sternly,  "for  in  that 
case  I  must  run  my  blade  through  thy  body." 

"  It  will  be  rather  awkward,"  said  the  Frenchman. 

"  Not  at  all,"  returned  his  antagonist.  "  My  father 
will  recognize  thy  face  when  the  mask  is  torn  away,  and 
he  will  cry  me  a  dutiful  child.  For  thou  art  one  more 
man  than  is  needful  to  people  the  sphere  of  his  content." 

"  And  am  I  nothing  to  thee?  "  he  asked  her,  his  voice 
suddenly  growing  hard,  for  now  he  knew  she  was  in 
earnest. 

"  I  pray  thee  draw,  senor,"  was  her  answer. 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Belle-Isle  drew  his  sword. 

She  of  the  blue  mask  clasped  her  hands.  "  Now  the 
saints  be  with  my  little  soldier  !  "  she  cried  in  a  voice  that 
trembled  with  excitement. 

"  This  came  almost  to  the  point  of  being  a  comedy," 
said  Belle-Isle.  "  But  we  have  a  tragedy  by  a  hair  !  " 

Their  swords  clashed  together  in  the  moonlight. 

He  had  thought  to  play  with  her,  to  parry  her  thrusts 
lightly,  and  presently  to  send  her  weapon  flying  through 
the  shrubbery.  But  he  found  himself  confronted  by  one 
whose  quickness,  daring,  and  skill  called  forth  all  his 
qualities  as  a  swordsman.  At  first  he  experienced  a 
shock  of  surprise,  then  alarm.  While  her  strength  should 
endure,  she  was  his  match.  When  that  failed  her,  he 
feared  a  thrust  in  his  own  defence  might  wound  her  body 
which  was  so  dear  to  him.  He  stood  on  the  defensive, 
and  she  beset  him  with  lightning  rapidity,  as  if  she  had 
thoroughly  made  up  her  mind  to  have  his  life.  He  felt 
an  anguish  of  spirit  because  she  could  be  so  resolute  in 
her  determination  to  kill  him.  What  would  he  not 
endure  to  spare  her  pain?  And  yet  she,  from  a  foolish 
whim  or  from  mere  bravado,  turned  her  experienced 
blade  toward  his  heart.  Nay,  it  even  seemed  that  she 
had  taken  advantage  of  this  singular  turn  of  events  to 
put  an  end  to  his  adventures.  Perhaps  from  the  first  it 
had  been  her  intention  to  seek  a  quarrel  with  him,  and 
thrust  him  through. 

That  he  should  die  by  the  hand  of  a  woman,  even  the 
hand  of  Rosamunda,  was  an  insupportable  thought. 
The  sense  of  wrongs  endured  and  shame  intended, 


THE    DUEL    WITH     ROSAMUNDA 

caused  his  arm  to  assert  its  accustomed  energy.  He 
struck  her  blade  from  him.  She  withdrew  just  in  time 
to  avoid  the  full  force  of  his  blow.  Then  her  steel 
leaped  toward  him  like  the  sudden  dart  of  a  serpent's 
tongue.  He  bent  backward  to  avoid  the  attack.  Her 
sword  tore  his  weapon  from  his  grasp.  At  the  same 
time  he  fell  upon  his  back,  for  his  foot  had  slipped  in  his 
attempt  to  escape  her  furious  charge.  He  fell  out  of  the 
glare  of  the  moonlight,  and  the  sudden  darkness  blinded 
him.  He  felt  her  foot  upon  his  breast.  He  started  to 
rise  when  her  voice  came  sharp  and  clear.  "  My  sword 
is  at  thy  throat,  Senor  Crimsondoublet.  Do  not 
move !  " 

He  lay  still  while  his  blood  boiled,  and  his  breath  came 
in  heavy  gasps. 

"  Do  not  kill  him,"  said  Bluemask,  who  had  drawn 
near. 

"  Yield  !  "  cried  Rosamunda. 

"  Ay,  indeed,"  said  Belle-Isle  with  a  hard  laugh. 

"  Retract  thy  words  as  touching  the  fame  of  this 
lady,"  said  Rosamunda  sternly. 

"  I  am  at  thy  mercy,"  said  Belle-Isle! 

"  Retract !  " 

"  I  desire  to  live,"  he  murmured. 

"  Retract !  "  she  repeated  calmly. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  retract  all  my  words." 

She  took  her  foot  from  his  breast,  and  he  slowly  rose 
to  his  feet,  and  looked  about  for  his  sword.  It  lay 
under  the  bench.  He  picked  it  up,  and  thrust  it  into 
its  sheath.  His  face  was  dyed  with  the  red  of  shame. 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

He  did  not  look  toward  Rosamunda,  but  as  he  started 
to  leave  the  arbor,  he  found  Bluemask  standing  in  the 
entrance.  She  drew  aside  to  let  him  pass.  He  paused 
a  moment,  and  as  she  still  clutched  her  mask  nervously 
in  her  hand,  he  stared  into  her  face. 

His  own  mask  had  been  torn  away  in  his  fall,  and  he 
made  no  effort  to  recover  it.  She  looked  at  him  intently, 
forgetting  that  her  own  face  was  exposed.  When  she 
realized  this  was  the  case,  she  covered  her  face  with  a 
low  cry  of  alarm.  But  the  Frenchman  had  used  his 
opportunity  well.  He  had  discovered  the  sweet  young 
face  of  a  mere  girl.  Although  the  features  were  not  yet 
mature,  they  wore  a  look  of  refinement  he  could  not 
have  believed  possible.  The  wonder  of  that  noble  brow 
and  the  pure  light  of  her  eyes,  caused  him,  for  an  in- 
stant, to  forget  his  indignation  against  her  who  had 
overthrown  him. 

As  she  replaced  her  mask,  he  stepped  before  her. 
"  Lady,"  he  said,  "  what  I  was  compelled  to  retract  at 
the  point  of  the  sword,  I  am  compelled  to  retract  at  the 
glance  of  thine  eyes.  One  look  into  thy  face  has  made 
me  as  jealous  of  thy  honor  as  thy  mother  could  desire." 

"  Senor,"  said  Rosamunda,  coming  forward,  "  here 
is  thy  mask." 

Belle-Isle  turned  suddenly  upon  her,  and  exclaimed, 
not  seeing  the  mask  she  held  toward  him,  "  The  next 
time  we  fight  together,  our  little  romance  will  have  a 
new  ending !  " 

"  Sayest  so?"  cried  Rosamunda.  "Come,  then,  let 
us  do  it  now." 

154 


THE     DUEL    WITH    ROSAMUNDA 

Belle-Isle  walked  swiftly  away,  and  as  he  passed  the 
gay  company  that  thronged  the  walks  of  the  garden, 
they  paused  to  stare  at  his  unmasked  face.  He  had  no 
thought  for  them.  He  had  reached  the  outer  staircase, 
meaning  to  make  his  way  through  the  palace  and  flee 
forever  from  the  presence  and  from  the  thought  of  Rosa- 
munda.  But  he  came  face  to  face  with  her  father. 
Each,  being  unmasked,  recognized  the  other  instantly. 
Gonzalvo  now  knew  that  the  insolent  stranger  in  the 
crimson  doublet  was  the  same  who  had  defied  him  more 
than  a  week  ago,  whose  friends  had  slain  several  of  his 
comrades,  and  who  had  effected  the  escape  of  the  veiled 
lady.  A  fierce  scowl  appeared  on  the  warrior's  face  as 
he  grasped  his  sword.  At  sight  of  his  anger,  Belle- 
Isle  immediately  forgot  his  own  shame  and  fury,  and 
became  smiling  and  at  ease. 

"  It  seems,  senor,"  he  said  with  a  bow,  "  that  Fate 
desires  us  to  become  acquainted,  else  she  would  not 
so  often  throw  us  in  each  other's  way." 

"  Thou  speakest  apt  words,"  said  the  old  man,  draw- 
ing his  sword,  "  for  thou  art  very  much  in  my  way, 
fellow." 

"  Then  let  us  make  one  less  of  us,"  said  the  French- 
man. "  Let  us  seek  a  secluded  spot  in  the  garden,  and 
fight  where  no  one  will  disturb  us  with  their  vulgar 
gaze." 

"  That  is  very  well,"  said  the  other,  his  gray  eyebrows 
almost  meeting  in  a  fierce  frown,  "  but  how  know  I 
that  thou  art  worthy  to  die  by  my  sword?  Nay,  I  will 
call  my  men  to  harness  thee  to  the  rack." 

'55 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  No,  thou  wilt  not,"  said  the  young  man  easily. 
"  As  a  Spanish  gentleman,  Senor  de  Oviedo,  thou  wilt 
do  nothing  of  that  nature.  Thou  wilt  fight  with  me.  I 
am  one  of  the  Colignys  of  France,  and  have  as  much 
right  as  another  to  die  by  thy  sword.  Thou  wilt  come 
with  me,  if  thou  art  not  afraid  to  meet  so  youthful  and 
sprightly  a  cavalier." 

"  Enough  !  I  will  fight  with  thee  with  double  pleas- 
ure because  thou  art  of  that  family  of  noble  heretics. 
Come,  I  know  a  place  well  suited." 

The  garden  of  Egmont  extended  many  acres,  and  it 
was  diversified  by  winding  paths,  so  that  one  unaccus- 
tomed to  the  place  might  easily  lose  his  way.  The 
groves  and  arbors  and  towering  shrubs  hid  the  paths 
from  each  other  in  such  a  manner  that  an  effect  of 
seclusion  was  given  to  many  a  nook  in  the  inclosure. 

At  first  it  was  Belle-Isle's  intention  to  put  an  end  to 
this  tiresome  old  gentleman.  But  he  began  to  reflect 
that  no  glory  could  be  won  by  killing  Gonzalvo,  still 
less  by  being  slain.  It  would  be  an  adventure  to  fight, 
but  it  would  be  still  more  an  adventure  not  to  fight. 
On  the  whole,  the  latter  seemed  the  pleasanter  sport. 
Accordingly,  when  they  were  traversing  a  narrow  path 
with  high  banks  of  flowering  shrubs  on  either  hand,  the 
Frenchman  made  a  running  leap,  cleared  the  barrier  on 
his  right,  and  disappeared.  Gonzalvo  was  unable  to 
follow,  both  on  account  of  his  heavy  armor,  and  by 
reason  of  a  certain  unelastic  stiffness  which  Time  be- 
stows with  one  hand  while  he  is  presenting  experience 
with  the  other.  This  rigidity  was  purely  physical,  how- 

156 


ever.  The  spirits  of  the  old  man  leaped  in  buoyant 
rage,  and  he  raised  a  cry  of  alarm  that  brought  some  of 
his  men  hurrying  to  his  assistance. 

In  the  meantime  Belle-Isle  darted  from  path  to  path, 
gradually  decreasing  his  speed.  He  mingled  as  little  as 
possible  with  the  gay  company,  on  account  of  his  ex- 
posed face.  At  last  he  came  to  a  spot  that  appeared 
familiar.  It  was,  indeed,  the  very  arbor  where  he  had 
parted  from  Rosamunda  and  Bluemask.  He  crept  near, 
and  made  a  little  nest  for  himself  in  the  shrubbery,  where 
he  was  safe  from  discovery.  Voices  came  to  him  from 
the  bench  which  he  could  have  touched  with  his  hand. 
The  moonlight  showed  him  Rosamunda  and  Bluemask, 
sitting  close  together,  their  backs  turned  toward  his 
hiding-place. 

"  Why  wilt  thou  have  me  say  it  so  often?  "  said  Blue- 
mask.  "  Thou  knowest,  Enrique,  how  much  I  love 
thee." 

"  It  is  sweet  to  my  ears,"  said  Rosamunda.  "  How  long 
hast  thou  loved  me,  darling  Anna?" 

"  Since  first  I  saw  thee  in  the  review,  Enrique.  I  knew 
thee  at  once  to  be  unlike  any  man  I  had  ever  met." 

"  I  think  that  true  enough,"  observed  Rosamunda.  "  I 
was  never  like  other  men,  sweet." 

"  I  had  never  looked  at  men  before  that  morning," 
said  Bluemask,  otherwise  Anna.  "  They  seemed  so  big, 
so  strong,  and  so  cruel.  I  am  glad  thou  art  not  big, 
Enrique,  like  thy  father.  I  am  never  afraid  of  thee, 
although  I  am  alone  with  thee,  and  I  am  so  young,  — 
only  fifteen !  But,  oh,  how  brave  is  my  little  soldier ! 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

When  I  saw  thee  set  thy  foot  upon  that  great  bragging 
soldier,  with  his  evil  taunts,  I  could  have  knelt  and 
kissed  thy  foot.  Dost  thou  think  less  of  me,  Enrique, 
because  I  love  thee  more  than  thou  lovest  me  ?  " 

"  How  sayest  thou,  thou  lovest  me  more  than  I  love 
thee?" 

"  Why,  it  is  very  plain,  my  lover !  I  know  what  I 
would  do  if  I  did  not  fear  thou  mightest  think  less  of  me. 
And  that  would  be  to  take  off  my  mask  and  say  '  Good 
evening '  to  thy  lips." 

Rosamunda  removed  her  mask,  and  Belle-Isle  heard 
them  kiss.  Then  Bluemask  continued,  "  It  is  very  wrong, 
I  know.  Oh,  it  is  very  wicked  to  love  thee  so,  for  me 
who  am  a  girl !  My  father  would  turn  me  from  his  door. 
And  my  mother,  —  it  would  break  her  heart.  But  that 
would  be  because  they  are  old.  I  am  not  old.  Perhaps 
they  acted  thus  twenty  years  ago." 

"  How  didst  thou  know  me  in  my  mask,  Anna?  " 

"  One  glance  at  thy  form.  I  know  thee  in  any  dis- 
guise. Thy  face  is  so  smooth,  Enrique !  Promise  me 
thou  wilt  never  grow  a  beard." 

"  I  swear  it,  by  my  sword  !  "  cried  Rosamunda. 

A  voice  spoke  at  the  entrance:   "Who  is  within?" 

"  Is  that  my  father?  "  called  Rosamunda.  "  I  am  thy 
son,  Enrique,  and  my  lady  is  also  here." 

Gonzalvo  entered  the  arbor.  "  Ah,  Enrique,"  he  said 
gruffly.  "And  is  that  the  lady-bird?  Well,  well! 
Thou  art  a  sad  rogue,  Enrique !  But  hast  seen  any- 
thing of  an  accursed  naked-faced,  long-legged  fugitive 
in  crimson  doublet?" 

158 


THE    DUEL    WITH     ROSAMUNDA 

"  We  are  quite  alone,  as  thou  seest,  father,"  answered 
Rosamunda.  "  We  have  seen  no  fugitive." 

Gonzalvo  went  away.  Anna  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  Can 
he  mean  that  cruel  man  who  fought  so  ill?  " 

"Ay,  sweetheart,  I  think  so.  But  let  us  not  betray 
the  wretch.  I  feel  no  anger  for  him." 

"Enrique,  thou  hast  told  thy  father?  Doth  he  con- 
sent to  our  marriage?" 

"  It  likes  him  well,  darling,"  said  Rosamunda. 

"  Oh,  when  may  it  be?"  said  Anna  with  a  tremulous 
sigh.  "  Dear  heart,  wait  not  for  my  parents,  they  will 
never  consent,  for  they  are  bitterly  prejudiced  against 
thy  countrymen.  When  we  are  married  they  will  relent." 

"  It  may  not  be  at  present,  love.  Thou  hast  not  known 
me  two  weeks.  Thou  art  a  child.  Nay,  let  us  be  con- 
tent to  love  and  hope."  Rosamunda  sighed  deeply. 
Anna  sighed.  "  Let  us  return  to  the  house,"  said  the 
little  soldier.  They  arose.  Rosamunda's  mask  had  fallen 
from  the  bench.  Belle-Isle  reached  forth  a  cautious 
hand  and  secured  it  After  a  silence  during  which  the 
lovers  were  motionless  with  their  arms  about  each  other, 
Rosamunda  turned.  "  Where  is  my  mask  ?  "  she  inquired. 

At  first  Anna  did  not  answer,  because  she  was  sob- 
bing. At  last  she  said,  "  It  was  upon  the  bench." 

"  So  I  thought,  but  it  is  gone.  There,  Anna,  weep 
not.  All  will  be  well.  Trust  to  thy  Enrique  !  " 

"  Anna !  "  called  a  stern  voice  from  the  entrance. 

"  Yes,  father,"  said  the  girl,  in  a  frightened  voice. 

"  Thy  mother  hath  sent  for  thee,"  said  a  man  enter- 
ing, and  taking  her  arm. 

159 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  I  am  not  alone,  father,"  said  Anna  timidly. 

"  So  I  see,"  observed  her  father  dryly.  "  Well,  any 
one  who  wishes  to  see  thee,  will  find  thee  in  the  recep- 
tion-hall. There  is  too  much  of  garden  in  thy  plan, 
Anna." 

"  I  have  protected  the  lady,"  said  Rosamunda  haugh- 
tily. 

"  My  thanks,  senor,"  returned  the  father  grimly. 
"  Methinks  thou  mightst  have  protected  her  better  with 
thy  mask  upon  thy  face !  I  wish  thee  good  evening, 
senor." 

Anna  and  her  father  departed.  Rosamunda  sank  upon 
her  knees,  and  felt  upon  the  ground  for  her  mask.  She 
could  not  find  it. 

"  Where  can  it  be?  "  she  murmured  in  a  voice  of  im- 
patient perplexity.  "  What  shall  I  do?" 

"  Behold  thy  mask  and  thy  conquered  foe,"  said 
Belle-Isle,  rising  before  her. 


j  60 


I 


Chapter  Ten 

ROSAMUNDA'S  SECRET 

little    soldier   gave  a  startled    cry,   but 
instantly    rallied.      "  Belle-Isle ! "    she    ex- 
claimed in  a  low  but  earnest  voice,  "  I  am 
glad  it  is  thou." 
"And  I  am  also  glad  it  is  I,"  he  returned. 
"There  was  something  I  would  have  said  to  thee," 
she  murmured. 

"  And  there  is  something  I  would  have  said  to  me, 
lady." 

4<  Give  me  the  mask,  senor." 

"  Let  us  seat  ourselves  upon  the  bench,  lady,"  he  said, 
holding  the  mask  away  from  her  outstretched  hand. 
"  Is  thy  life  nothing  to  thee,  senor?" 
"  Nothing  to  hide  away  in  a  bag,  lady.     An  thou  sit 
not  down,  thou  shalt  not  have  thy  mask." 

"  Thou  art  rash  and  foolish,"  said  Rosamunda,  seat- 
ing herself.  "  And  thy  voice  is  much  altered,  senor. 
Hath  fear,  or  recklessness,  marred  the  harmony  of  thy 
tones?" 

"  Turn  thy  head  a  little  away,  Rosamunda ;  there  is  a 
shadow  on  thy  cheek.  I  would  see  thee  in  all  thy  cruel 
beauty." 

ii  161 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Why  cruel?"  she  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  How  beautiful  thou  art !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Now  it 
must  be  that  there  is  power  in  my  soul  that  I  little 
dreamed  was  there.  By  Belle-Isle  !  I  must  be  a  great 
man,  after  all.  I  can  look  steadily  into  thy  face,  se- 
norita,  and  feel  no  love  for  thee." 

A  hot  flush  swept  over  her  cheeks.  She  turned 
quickly  away.  Belle-Isle  rose.  "  God  send  thee  good 
evening,"  he  said.  "  I  am  well  content.  Here  is  thy 
mask.  Thy  beauty  is  no  less,  and  thine  eyes  and  mouth 
have  that  same  sweet  look  of  pride  that  stirred  my 
depths.  But  the  charm  is  all  gone,  Rosamunda ;  thou 
art  naught  to  me." 

"  Stay,"  said  Rosamunda,  as  he  started  away.  She 
held  her  mask  forgotten  at  her  side.  "  Belle-Isle,  I  have 
not  yet  told  thee  my  message." 

"  True  enough,  senorita  !  Well,  let  us  have  the  mes- 
sage. Only  thy  wish  could  keep  me  beside  thee,  for  I 
swear  I  have  no  liking  for  thy  company,  lovely  lady !  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  tell  thee,"  she  said  with  sudden 
anger.  "Go!" 

Belle-Isle  passed  cautiously  to  the  entrance,  and 
looked  out,  to  see  if  any  of  his  pursuers  were  in  sight. 
While  he  paused,  Rosamunda  changed  her  mind,  and 
stole  up  behind  him.  "  Belle-Isle  !  "  she  said,  touching 
his  arm. 

"Very  well,  little  soldier;   is  thy  speech  long?  " 

"  Senor,  I  pray  thee  hide  behind  the  bench.  And  I 
will  sit  upon  the  bench,  so  if  any  one  comes,  I  shall  be 
thought  all  alone.  For  I  must  tell  thee  my  excuses." 

162 


ROSAMUNDA'S    SECRET 

"  Is  it,  my  lady,  that  thou  wouldst  have  me  at  thy 
feet  again?  Come,  however,  we  will  play  this  little 
comedy." 

Rosamunda  seated  herself  sideways  on  the  bench, 
and  looked  over  the  back  at  Belle-Isle.  "  Hear  me, 
Belle-Isle." 

"  Then  feed  me  with  words,  lady,  as  I  have  been 
feeding  myself  with  illusions.  Behold,  I  am  like  a 
young  pigeon,  waiting  for  his  food  with  gaping  mouth." 

"  When  thou  saidst  in  thy  rashness  that  Bluemask 
was  like  the  two  thousand  women  who  came  with  our 
army  from  Spain,  what  could  I  but  fight  thee?  I  am 
her  lover,  we  are  to  be  married,  —  so  thinks  Bluemask. 
Could  I  suffer  thee  to  insult  her  needlessly,  when  she 
looks  upon  me  as  her  future  husband?" 

"  It  may  be,  senorita,  but  how  could  I  know  thou 
hadst  ever  seen  her  before?  And  the  way  she  spoke  to 
thee  was  enough  to  confuse  a  philosopher." 

"  Thou  knowest  I  had  to  fight  for  her,  Belle-Isle. 
Be  just !  Had  I  refused,  she  would  have  detected  my 
secret.  In  that  case  I  should  have  been  ruined." 

"  Rosamunda,  I  am  getting  interested  in  the  world 
again.  Wast  thou  sorry  to  fight  me?" 

"  I  was  sorry  to  put  thee  to  shame,  Belle-Isle,  but  I 
could  do  nothing  else.  My  evil  destiny  forced  me  to 
the  deed.  I  knew  thou  couldst  have  overthrown  me, 
but  I  also  knew  thou  wouldst  not.  An  accident  came 
to  my  aid." 

"Yes,  yes,  Rosamunda,"  he  said  eagerly,  "it  was  a 
pure  accident ;  thou  seest  that,  lady !  " 

163 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Certainly,  Belle-Isle." 

"  Any  man  might  have  slipped  in  that  spot,"  he  cried 
getting  to  his  feet  impetuously. 

"  It  might  have  befallen  the  Duke  of  Alva  himself!  " 

"  It  was  not  because  I  am  a  poor  swordsman,"  ex- 
claimed the  Frenchman. 

"  I  knew  that  at  the  time,"  replied  the  lady. 

"  Let  us  fight  now,"  said  Belle-Isle  eagerly.  "  Come, 
Rosamunda,  I  will  not  hurt  thee.  Kill  me  if  thou 
canst!  " 

"  No,  no,  Belle-Isle.  Why  should  we  fight,  we  who 
have  passed  through  the  shadow  of  death  together. 
Rather  should  we  be  very  true  friends." 

"  Alas,  lady,  how  can  I  ever  forget  that  thy  foot  was 
set  in  contempt  upon  my  prostrate  body  !  " 

"  Ah,  proud  Frenchman,  many  a  man  in  my  country 
would  give  much  to  kneel  before  that  foot  whose  pres- 
sure filled  thee  with  such  mortification ! " 

"  It  was  as  the  foot  of  an  enemy  that  I  regarded 
it,"  said  Belle-Isle.  "  But  as  the  foot  of  a  friend,  — 
by  my  soul,  it  is  a  very  dainty  and  small  member, 
indeed !  " 

"  Are  we  then  at  peace,  senor?  " 

"  Not  yet,  lady.  Here  is  this  matter  of  Bluemask. 
How  canst  thou  lead  her  on  with  false  hopes?" 

"  She  is  naught  but  a  child,"  said  Rosamunda. 

"  That  may  be ;  but  it  seems  to  me  she  loveth  thee 
well;  thy  femininity  hath  won  her  heart,  though  she 
knows  not  why  she  is  won.  How  canst  thou  play  with 
the  child  thus?" 

164 


ROSAMUNDA'S    SECRET 

"  This  is  nothing  to  thee,  Belle-Isle,"  said  Rosamunda 
with  cold  haughtiness. 

"  It  is  so  much  that  I  cannot  look  upon  thee  as 
worthy  my  friendship  while  I  think  these  things.  Now 
if  thou  carest  for  my  friendship,  clear  thyself  or  let  me 
go  my  way." 

"  And  canst  thou  go  thy  way,  Belle-Isle,"  she  said, 
her  voice  altering  suddenly,  "  as  careless  as  thy  tones?" 

"  Rosamunda,  thou  must  be  very  much  to  me,  or 
nothing.  There  is  no  half-way  house  to  such  loveliness 
as  thine." 

"  I  know  not  why  I  condescend  to  explain  my  actions 
to  thee,  a  stranger,  and  a  Frenchman.  It  seems  I  must 
have  thy  good  opinion  at  the  cost  of  my  self-respect. 
We  have  met  but  once  before,  and  probably  shall  not 
meet  again.  What  is  thy  power,  Belle-Isle?  for  never 
before  did  any  one  force  my  lips  to  speak,  when  my 
pride  would  turn  the  key  in  the  lock.  What  art  thou, 
Senor  Crimsondoublet?  I  am  the  daughter  of  De 
Oviedo  y  Varrez  !  How  strange  that  thou  shouldst  know 
this  secret.  And  now  I  am  to  tell  thee  of  other  private 
matters.  What  is  thy  power?  " 

"  As  to  that,  I  have  my  own  opinion,"  replied  Belle- 
Isle.  "  Let  us  have  more  of  this  matter." 

"  I  cannot  silence  my  wonder  and  my  uneasiness,"  said 
the  lady,  speaking  as  it  were  to  herself.  "  This  impe- 
rious voice  of  thine  would  once  have  turned  me  to  stone. 
Now,  I  would  do  much  to  show  thee  honor,  —  thee  with- 
out a  home,  without  wealth  or  position !  Yet  why 
shouldst  thou  be  honored?" 

165 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Reach  -me  thy  hand  a  moment,  lady,"  said  Belle-Isle, 
"  and  I  will  tell  thee  thy  fortune." 

"  Ay,  Belle-Isle,  I  like  that  much  better  than  telling 
my  secrets." 

"  Oh,  we  shall  have  the  secrets  in  a  moment,"  he  said, 
"  but  first  let  us  have  the  hand.  Now  this  is  an  honor 
to  hold  thy  hand." 

"  Do  not,  Belle-Isle.  Release  the  poor  little  hand ; 
it  feels  like  a  bird  in  a  strong  cage." 

"  So  it  is,  lady,  and  my  fingers  are  the  strong  bars, 
through  which  it  cannot  make  its  escape,  flutter  as  it 
may.  Now,  proceed  with  thy  story.  Fear  not  for  the 
bird,  it  is  not  confined  to  be  eaten,  but  to  be  admired." 

"This  is  an  ignoble  trap,  seiior;  thou  saidst  it  was  to 
tell  me  my  fortune." 

"  And  thou  saidst  it  was  thy  will  to  show  me  honor. 
Here  is  honor  enough.  And  as  for  thy  fortune,  I  discern 
it  as  follows  :  if  thou  canst  clear  thyself —  for,  by  Belle- 
Isle,  the  matter  of  Bluemask  causes  my  judgment  to 
halt  on  its  way  to  thy  favor  !  — then  thy  fortune  is  this, 
—  that  the  bird  is  in  its  master's  cage." 

"  What  means  these  foolish  words,  senor?" 

"Nay,  only  the  future  can  explain  the  meaning  of  the 
fortune-teller.  Now  for  thy  story." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Rosamunda,  suddenly  snatching  away 
her  hand. 

Footsteps  approached.  "  Still  here?  "  said  Gonzalvo's 
voice. 

"  Still  here,  father,"  said  Rosamunda.  "  But  Anna 
has  been  taken  away  by  her  angry  father." 

166 


ROSAMUNDA'S    SECRET 

Gonzalvo  entered,  laughing  harshly.  Belle-Isle 
crouched  behind  the  bench  in  the  shadow.  The 
Spaniard  sat  down  saying,  "  It  is  a  pleasant  farce, 
Enrique.  Hold  her  off  as  long  as  thou  canst,  Ro  — 
Enrique.  Yet  not  so  long,  —  two  weeks,  let  us  say. 
Alva  is  about  to  establish  a  Council  of  Troubles,  which 
shall  have  all  matters  of  justice  in  its  own  hands.  As 
soon  as  it  is  organized,  we  can  put  the  accursed  heretics 
to  death  by  hundreds.  Then  all  masks  will  be  thrown 
off,  and  this  Anna,  —  but  where  is  thy  mask?" 

"  Anna  carried  it  away  in  her  bosom,"  said  Rosa- 
munda  quickly.  Gonzalvo  gave  a  short  laugh,  then 
said,  "  Who  was  that  fellow  in  the  crimson  doublet  who 
put  his  hand  upon  thine  arm  when  first  we  entered  the 
palace?  " 

"How  should  I  know,  father?" 

"By  my  sword,  Enrique,  I  had  a  most  dastardly  sus- 
picion, just  for  an  instant.  Yet  I  knew  thou  couldst 
have  told  no  one  thy  secret." 

"  Never,  never,  father,"  said  Rosamunda,  in  the  trem- 
ulous accents  of  fear. 

He  rose.  "  Should  the  thing  become  known,  I  should 
send  thee  to  a  convent;  thou  understandest,  a  living 
burial,  yea,  by  my  sword,  —  never  to  look  upon  the 
world  again,  as  I  am  thy  father !  This,  if  through  an 
accident  thy  sex  become  known.  But  if  thou  shouldst 
intentionally  reveal  thy  secret,  Rosamunda,  I  will  show 
thee  a  fate  thou  hast  thus  far  escaped  !  " 

"  Father,  why  dost  thou  speak  so?  Have  I  not  always 
sought  to  obey  thee  ?  " 

167 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Rosamunda,  if  I  have  spoken  without  cause,  forget 
these  words.  If  thou  art  in  danger,  remember  them. 
That  man  in  crimson  doublet  for  an  instant  caused  such 
a  devil  to  dance  in  my  brain  that  I  have  not  since  grown 
calm.  When  he  spoke  to  thee  in  that  accursed  voice, 
which  I  have  recognized  as  the  voice  of  my  worst  enemy, 

—  I  had  for  a  moment  such  a  thought  that  the  room 
seemed  to  swim  in  blood.     That  thought  was  that  thou 
and  he  had  a  secret  between  you.    And  I  seemed  to  see 
thy  punishment." 

"  Father  —  " 

"  Let  us  to  the  house,  Enrique,"  said  Gonzalvo,  his 
hard  voice  suddenly  becoming  calm.  "  I  will  procure 
thee  a  new  mask.  But  nay,  it  must  be  time  for  the 
feast.  Come.  If  I  have  spoken  without  a  cause,  as  I 
sincerely  believe,  —  else  we  should  not  be  standing  thus, 

—  still  take  my  words  as  a  warning." 
They  left  the  arbor. 


1 68 


IT  was  not   difficult  for   Belle-Isle  to  escape  from 
Egmont's  garden.     While  the  great  banquet  was 
in  progress  he  climbed  the  wall,  and  stood  once 
more  in  the  street.     It  was  deserted.     The  moon 
was  laughing  at  her  sleepy  sister,  the  earth,  from  whom 
she   had    drawn   away  the    mantle    of    midnight.     The 
Frenchman  hastened  to  descend  the  hill,  and  presently 
felt   secure,    since     there   was    none    to    challenge   his 
progress.     His  step  was  bent  toward  the  retreat  of  the 
reformers,  but   his  thoughts  were  not  with  the  fugitives 
who  spent  their  uneasy  days  in  gloomy  hiding. 

He  had  begun  to  understand  better  the  relations  be- 
tween Rosamunda  and  Gonzalvo.  Fear  had  spoken  in 
the  daughter's  voice,  cruelty  in  that  of  her  father.  What 
kind  of  a  father  was  this  who  compelled  his  daughter  to 
dress  and  fight  like  a  man,  giving  her  no  alternative  but 
imprisonment  in  a  convent?  She  must  often  feel  shame 
and  loathing  for  her  man's  attire,  her  man's  speech,  her 
man's  actions ;  but  this  shame  was  better  than  death  to 
life  and  its  bright  scenes.  Thus  Belle-Isle  not  only 
sympathized  with  the  choice  she  had  made,  but  felt  a 
tender  pity  for  her  necessity  of  making  the  choice. 

169 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

He  could  understand  how  she  had  grown  sick  of  her 
part;  how  with  impatient  disgust  of  her  daily  life,  she 
had,  that  eventful  night  of  their  first  meeting,  discarded 
her  man's  attire  for  the  dangers  of  a  woman's  dress.  He 
remembered  the  waves  of  color  that  surged  into  her 
cheeks  as  she  sat  upon  the  bench  in  the  full  glow  of 
the  moon  while  he  knelt  holding  her  hand.  How  be- 
seeching had  been  her  eyes  when  she  reached  for  the 
mask  !  How  her  face  contracted  in  sudden  pain  when 
he  showed  anger !  And  when  she  wondered  why  she 
told  him  her  secrets,  how  great  and  solemn  had  looked 
her  eyes,  as  for  a  moment  she  forgot  her  condition  ! 
With  what  a  sweet  gentleness  and  trust  she  seemed 
suddenly  to  remember  her  attire,  to  appeal  to  him 
with  her  eyes,  to  imagine  about  her  the  rich  robes 
that  should  have  given  her  dignity  and  modesty. 

"  By  Belle-Isle  !  "  muttered  the  young  hian,  "  there 
was  never  before  a  lady  so  proud  in  a  situation  so 
humiliating.  I  could  have  thrown  my  own  peach- 
colored  cloak  about  her  and  hidden  her  loveliness  to 
the  despite  of  my  enraptured  eyes !  Oh,  Rosamunda, 
so  proud,  so  haughty,  yet  so  humble  and  sweet; 
above  all,  so  exquisite  in  face  and  form !  To  think 
that  I  must  leave  thee  in  that  scene  of  festivity  beside 
thy  sour  villain  of  a  father,  and  slink  back  to  the 
hole  where  these  poor  Dutch  mice  nibble  at  their 
Dutch  cheese  of  existence  !  But  to-morrow  I  leave  that 
hideous  nightmare  of  ennui" 

It  was  Belle-Isle's  intention  to  steal  back  to  the  hut 
of  Joost  van  Boendale,  if  possible  without  waking  any 

170 


POWER    OF    THE    INQUISITION 

of  the  snorers.  Why  need  those  heavy  sleepers  know 
that  he  had  been  from  the  house  that  night?  It  was  at 
least  two  hours  before  Joost  and  Hendrik  intended  to 
leave  the  place.  Then  he  could  bid  all  good-bye, 
render  thanks  for  hospitality  and  favors  received,  and 
depart,  leaving  no  suspicion  that  he  had  spent  a  few 
delightful  hours  in  the  camp  of  the  enemy.  And  how 
delightful  those  hours  had  been  !  —  with  just  a  sufficient 
mixture  of  anger,  excitement,  heartache,  and  rapture  to 
satisfy  youthful  ambition. 

The  Frenchman  reached  the  deserted  hut;  his  mind 
had  been  so  absorbed  with  thoughts  of  Rosamunda  that 
he  had  forgotten  to  return  to  the  clothier's  and  dress 
himself  in  Hendrik's  suit,  which  he  had  left  there  to  be 
called  for  that  night.  He  lifted  the  door,  and  as  the 
rope-ladder  was  gone,  he  rapped  upon  the  floor  in  the 
approved  manner.  Scarcely  had  he  done  so  when  he 
became  disagreeably  conscious  of  his  crimson  doublet 
and  peach-colored  cloak  and  flesh-tinted  hose,  which  so 
admirably  revealed  his  symmetrical  person  from  ankle 
to  waist.  He  hastily  closed  the  door  and  started  to  run 
away,  hoping  to  make  the  exchange  and  return.  Per- 
haps his  knocking  had  not  been  heard. 

His  hope  proved  delusive.  His  knocking  had  been 
heard.  From  around  the  decaying  walls  of  the  hut 
sprang  the  forms  of  Spanish  soldiers.  It  was  so  sudden, 
and  their  number  so  great,  that  he  was  overpowered 
before  he  could  draw  his  sword. 

"  Another  water-rat !  "  said  a  voice  with  a  hoarse 
laugh.  "This  is  a  sweet  night's  work.  Fifty-five?" 

171 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"Fifty-six,"  one  of  the  men  said  in  correction. 

Belle-Isle  was  rudely  dragged  away,  a  soldier  at  each 
arm.  He  had  not  yet  recovered  from  his  miserable  sur- 
prise. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  am  not  a  native  of  this 
country,  but  —  " 

"  How  now,  Rodrigo,"  said  one  who  went  in  advance, 
"canst  not  choke  the  fellow?  Is  his  whining  music  to 
our  ears?  Has  his  throat  no  softness?  Clutch  it,  an  he 
speak  another  word." 

Belle-Isle  made  no  further  attempt  at  expostulation. 
He  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Inquisitors :  that  he  knew  by 
the  uniforms.  His  nationality  could  not  save  him.  He 
had  been  discovered  at  the  trap-door  ;  therefore  he  was 
a  traitor.  Believing  death  at  hand,  the  Frenchman 
grew  calm,  even  jaunty.  He  would  have  talked,  he 
would  have  sung,  but  he  knew  they  would  strangle  him 
at  the  first  sound.  His  hopelessness  gave  him  a  hard, 
reckless  sense  of  gayety.  It  was  bitter  to  his  soul  that 
he  could  not  jest  with  his  captors,  and  show  them  he 
was  without  fear.  He  expressed  his  feeling  as  well  as 
he  could  in  his  step  and  look.  He  swaggered.  He 
looked  mocking  laughter  from  his  bright  eyes.  His 
lips  curled  in  a  sardonic  humor. 

They  brought  him  at  last  to  a  stone  building,  square 
and  oppressive  in  effect.  It  was  one  of  the  great  prisons 
of  Brussels.  A  guard  stood  at  the  door,  evidently 
awaiting  them.  The  soldiers  pushed  Belle-Isle  into  an 
inner  room  without  windows.  The  link-boys  who  had 
preceded  the  little  procession  took  their  places  upon 

172 


POWER    OF    THE    INQUISITION 

stone  platforms  where  the  lights  from  their  torches  fell 
over  the  reeking  apartment.  A  crowd  of  prisoners 
stood  together  in  a  corner,  while  an  official  recorded 
their  names  and  all  the  information  he  could  extract. 
The  prisoners  were  shivering  as  with  the  ague,  and 
occasionally  bitter  cries  broke  from  the  children  and 
sobs  from  the  women.  They  were  in  a  wretched  con- 
dition of  exposure  and  filth.  Evidently  they  had  been 
hurried  from  their  beds.  The  men  for  the  most  part 
were  dressed  save  for  their  bare  feet,  but  the  women 
were  in  their  nightdresses.  All  were  dripping  with 
water,  for  they  had  been  driven  waist  deep  through  the 
black  lake,  while  the  Spaniards  had  pressed  behind 
them  upon  the  rafts.  How  cruelly  they  had  pressed 
upon  them  was  evidenced  by  their  condition,  showing 
that  they  had  sometimes  been  knocked  down  in  the 
water.  Their  hair  was  wet  and  matted,  and  their  arms 
showed  bruises.  The  oozy  mud  had  been  splattered 
over  them,  giving  many  a  bloodless  face  a  ghastly 
effect.  In  their  miserable  condition  it  was  impossible 
to  keep  the  teeth  from  chattering  audibly.  The  chil- 
dren were  embraced  in  straining  arms  that  sought  to 
give  a  little  warmth  from  bodies  quivering  from  the 
shock  of  being  hurled  into  the  water,  then  driven 
through  the  night  air  almost  naked. 

The  soldiers  gave  Belle-Isle  a  vindictive  push  that 
almost  threw  him  to  the  floor,  and  he  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  the  company.  There  was  such  a  con- 
trast presented  by  his  handsome  face  with  its  sardonic 
grin,  his  rich  attire,  and  his  attitude  of  defiant  careless- 

173 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

ness  that  a  shout  of  laughter  rose  from  the  soldiers. 
Belle-Isle  found  it  impossible  to  preserve  his  nonchal- 
ance before  this  living  picture  of  misery ;  his  smile 
vanished,  and  the  tilt  of  his  head  was  lost. 

At  first  he  gained  only  a  general  effect  of  wretched- 
ness, but  now  he  distinguished  in  the  front  rank  of 
Christian  soldiers,  Wilhelmina  Janssen.  His  eyes 
darted  from  her  face.  Yes,  here  were  her  father  and 
brother ;  here  also  were  the  Van  Boendales,  —  Joost, 
Kenau,  and  Kenau's  aunt.  One  lightning  glance 
showed  him  these  companions  in  misery ;  then  his  eyes 
returned  to  Wilhelmina.  Like  Kenau  and  Vrouw  von 
Boendale,  she  was  in  her  nightdress.  Her  hair  was 
plastered  upon  her  brow  with  mud,  her  face  was 
streaked  with  black  daubs.  Her  bare  arms  were  coated, 
showing  where  she  had  fallen,  driving  her  elbow  into 
the  viscid  muck.  Her  gown  had  been  torn  across  the 
bosom,  and  she  held  it  together  as  she  looked  steadily 
at  the  Frenchman.  Water  still  dripped  from  her  skirt 
in  slow  black  drops  which  fell  about  her  bare  feet. 
Belle-Isle  read  her  thought,  and  the  blood  surged  into 
his  face  while  he  returned  her  look.  Even  in  her  grimy 
and  drenched  condition,  her  hand  quivering  with  cold 
as  it  held  the  garment  upon  her  breast,  the  muddy 
skirt  clinging  about  her  limbs,  she  presented  a  picture 
that  affected  him  powerfully,  apart  from  his  sense  of 
pity.  Her  presence  was  grand  in  its  simplicity  and  in 
its  modesty.  Her  face  was  lighted  by  an  expression  so 
lofty  and  so  accusing  that  one  forgot  every  touch  of 
circumstance  that  sought  to  mar  the  picture.  She  was 

174 


POWER    OF    THE    INQUISITION 

not  beautiful,  but  misfortune  lent  her  a  dignity  and  a 
charm  that  beauty  might  have  sought  in  vain. 

"  Ho,  comrades,"  cried  a  soldier,  "  we  have  one 
gay  bird  among  these  mournful  doves !  See  its  fine 
feathers  !  " 

"  Silence,  Rodrigo  !  "  said  a  priest  harshly.  "  Is  this 
scene  of  pious  joy  a  place  for  such  ribaldry?" 

"  Belle-Isle,"  said  Hendrik  Janssen,  pointing  a  quiver- 
ing finger  at  the  motionless  Frenchman,  "  thou  didst 
well  to  take  my  clothes  from  thy  back  when  thou  didst 
seek  the  destruction  of  thy  benefactors  !  Hast  thou  come 
hither  to  mock  us  in  our  filth  and  rags?  Then  look 
upon  my  child,  and  be  content !  " 

"  Yes,  look  upon  us,  Belle-Isle,"  said  Wilhelmina. 
"  See  her  who  knelt  to  bandage  thy  wounds ;  see 
those  who  gave  thee  a  home,  and  cared  for  thee ! 
It  was  for  this  thou  first  didst  come, —  pretending 
to  be  a  beggar !  it  was  for  this  thou  didst  pretend  to 
hate  the  Church  of  Rome,  didst  crawl  to  the  lowest 
depths  of  hypocrisy,  didst  worm  thyself  into  our 
confidence !  " 

"  Here  is  some  mistake,  my  masters ! "  exclaimed 
Rodrigo. 

"  Ay,"  said  the  commander,  "  this  must  be  the  one 
who  told  our  captain  of  the  hiding-place.  Thy  pardon, 
Belle-Isle,  if  that  be  thy  name.  Thou  art  free  to  de- 
part." 

"  Then  I  pray  thee  leave  us,  Belle-Isle,"  cried  Wilhel- 
mina. "  Oh,  add  not  to  thy  perfidy  by  gazing  upon  the 
misfortunes  thou  hast  brought  about !  " 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Jan  now  spoke,  "  If  the  Holland  Wolves  had  been 
here  —  " 

"  Ay !  "  cried  Hendrik,  "  but  this  base  plotter  chose 
well  his  time !  This  was  the  last  night  of  my  stay  in  the 
retreat;  it  was  perchance  the  last  night  thou  wouldst 
have  been  there,  dear  Joost.  Belle-Isle  knew  when  to 
strike.  He  had  been  waiting.  But  go,  wretch  !  "  he 
cried,  suddenly  starting  toward  Belle-Isle  in  fury,  "  go 
and  leave  me  and  my  children  uncursed  by  thy  ven- 
omous gaze  !  "  His  fist  was  clenched,  and  uplifted. 

Belle-Isle  shrank  back,  and  a  soldier  pushed  Hendrik 
into  his  former  place.  "  My  father !  "  cried  Wilhelmina, 
putting  her  arms  about  his  neck.  She  began  to  sob. 
Jan  stared  at  her  a  moment  with  twitching  mouth,  then 
edged  his  way  up  to  her. 

"  Belle-Isle,"  said  old  Joost,  "  thou  hast  done  thy 
work  with  thoroughness.  But  what  can  I  do  better 
than  forgive  thee,  my  son,  and  pray  the  good  God  to 
change  thy  heart?  Go  forth,  young  man,  into  that 
liberty  thou  hast  stolen  from  us.  And  may  the  sight 
that  now  meets  thine  eyes  change  thy  heart  and  turn  it 
toward  heaven." 

"  Let  us  have  done  !  "  cried  the  commander  roughly. 
"  Away,  young  man,  we  have  much  business  to  dispatch. 
Accept  our  apologies,  and  repair  to  the  home  of  Madame 
de  Jasse  in  the  morning  at  nine,  and  thy  wages  will  be 
delivered  thee  according  to  contract.  By  our  Lady, 
thou  art  as  white  as  wax !  Get  thee  gone,  senor,  and 
praise  God  for  a  good  deed." 

"As  God  lives  — "cried  Belle-Isle. 

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POWER    OF    THE    INQUISITION 

"  He  calls  upon  God  !  "  cried  Wilhelmina,  looking  up 
wildly.  "  He,  the  conspirator !  Dost  thou  hear  him, 
father?  He  calls  upon  God!" 

Belle-Isle  was  hurried  from  the  room.  At  first  it  had 
been  his  impulse  to  declare  the  truth  openly,  and  share 
the  fate  of  his  benefactors.  But  although  this  course 
had  much  of  magnificent  heroism  to  recommend  it,— 
much  of  dashing  effect  that  was  dear  to  his  fancy,  —  it 
lacked  a  certain  element  of  utility  that  caused  him  to 
hesitate.  Yet  he  had  found  it  well-nigh  impossible  to  meet 
that  look  of  Wilhelmina.  In  her  disordered  state,  but 
partially  clothed  and  shivering  from  cold,  still  he  could 
compare  her  to  nothing  but  an  offended  angel,  awful 
and  severe  in  her  pure  and  righteous  wrath.  He  realized 
to  the  utmost  the  contrast  his  rich  attire  and  handsome 
face  presented  before  that  squalid  group.  He  under- 
stood how  his  secret  departure  from  the  hut  this  night 
of  all  others,  when  both  Joost  and  Hendrik  were  there, 
was  to  them  inexplicable  save  from  the  standpoint  of 
horrible  treachery. 

But  it  was  possible  he  might  save  them.  In  sharing 
their  imprisonment  he  should  rob  them  of  this  chance. 

Yes,  even  while  Joost  was  forgiving  him,  there  came 
the  quick  thought  that  through  Rosamunda  as  a  Spanish 
soldier  he  might  effect  the  rescue  of  his  friends. 


177 


Chapter    Twelve 

HOME  IN  THE    WOODEN  GLOVE 

BELLE-ISLE  hurried  from  the  prison  to  the 
clothier's.  A  sleepy  apprentice  sat  in  the 
dimly  lighted  room,  waiting  for  the  return 
of  the  masqueraders.  The  party  had  not  yet 
left  Count  Egmont's.  Belle-Isle's  sudden  entrance 
startled  the  apprentice  into  a  half-waking  state. 
The  Frenchman  hurriedly  called  for  the  bundle 
he  had  left  there  several  hours  before,  then  retired  to 
the  rear  apartment,  where  he  changed  his  suit,  and  once 
more  stood  in  the  clothes  given  him  by  Hendrik  Jans- 
sen.  Returning  to  the  storeroom,  he  bought  a  bag,  in 
which  he  placed  his  peach-colored  cloak,  crimson  doub- 
let, flesh-tinted  hose.  Then  he  left  with  his  bag  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  in  his  pocket  one  small  coin.  The 
streets  were  deserted  and  dark  except  where  a  gap  in 
the  tall  line  of  buildings  allowed  the  moon  to  cast 
vividly  denned  geometric  figures  upon  the  cobble- 
stones. 

Belle-Isle  crept  into  an  obscure  passage  and  seated 
himself  upon  some  steps.  The  air  was  warm  and  balmy. 
September  had  begun  her  rule,  but  August  still 

178 


Here  we  go,'  be  muttered,   '  Be  lie- Isle  and  bis  sword 
against  the  world*  ' 


lingered  in  the  heart  of  the  world.  The  young  man 
drew  his  sword  and  began  to  cut  gashes  in  his  clothes. 
Presently  his  doublet  and  jerkin  were  in  rags.  "  This 
goes  to  my  heart  and  pinches  it,"  he  muttered,  as  he 
continued  his  work  of  demolition.  "  But  no  half-way 
measures.  A  very  good  suit  and  a  very  bad  one  for  him 
who  lives  in  disguise.  I  am  a  noble,  or  a  beggar.  At 
present  I  am  a  success  as  a  mendicant,  save  that  I  be 
too  clean.  He  who  lives  in  poverty  never  wastes 
soap." 

He  rose,  thrust  his  sword  into  its  scabbard  and 
shouldered  his  bag.  "  Here  we  go,"  he  muttered, 
"  Belle-Isle  and  his  sword  against  the  world !  But  I 
must  stop  this  risky  habit  of  talking  to  myself.  Or 
rather  let  me  practise  to  some  purpose.  Hum  !  Let  us 
be  an  old  man.  Ah,  lack-a-day,  driven  from  my  home 
by  my  own  son  !  Forced  to  seek  a  new  roof  in  my  old 
age,  I,  with  the  snows  of  sixty  winters  in  my  beard. 
Where  shall  I  get  such  a  beard  ?  Nay,  my  locks  have 
not  turned  with  my  age.  It  is  a  birth-mark,  this  black 
hair.  None  of  my  ancestors  ever  grew  gray." 

Belle-Isle  paused  to  laugh  softly,  then  pursued  his 
way,  looking  sharply  about  with  the  experienced  eyes 
of  one  who  has  before  sought  shelter  without  money  or 
key.  At  last  he  reached  the  Grand  Square  and  searched 
the  huge  facades  and  fantastic  gables  with  an  undaunted 
gaze.  Experience  told  him  that  success  lies  hidden  in 
strange  nests,  and  there  dwelt  in  his  memory  something 
he  had  casually  glanced  at  that  very  night,  when  lights 
were  abundant.  Now  the  square  showed  lines  of  im- 

179 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

posing  architecture  towering  silent  and  grim,  while  in  the 
midst  lay  a  great  pool  of  moonlight,  to  which  the  build- 
ings appeared  as  rugged  cliffs  and  overhanging  preci- 
pices. There  stood  the  clothier's  dimly  lighted,  but  the 
other  shops  were  long  since  closed.  Before  one  hung 
the  sign  of  a  glover.  It  consisted  of  an  enormous 
wooden  glove,  poised  upon  a  high  pole.  Belle-Isle 
stopped,  and  stared  upward  at  the  sign.  The  mouth  of 
the  gigantic  effigy  was  turned  toward  the  building  whose 
business  it  was  designed  to  advertise.  The  fingers 
pointed  toward  the  palaces  of  the  Archers  and  Mariners. 
Across  the  front  of  the  glover's  shop,  on  a  line  with  the 
mouth  of  the  image,  ran  an  ornamental  ledge  of  stone, 
about  two  feet  wide,  and  at  least  twenty  feet  from  the 
ground.  Above  this  ledge  the  building  towered  with 
many  quaint  windows  and  protruding  corners,  as  if  the 
huge  pile  were  a  curious  monster,  whose  bones  were 
bursting  through  its  skin  of  stone. 

"  It  is  a  great  risk,"  muttered  Belle-Isle,  still  staring 
upward,  "  but  so  is  life  itself;  so  is  marriage ;  so  is 
heaven."  He  drew  a  small  object  from  his  bosom.  It 
was  a  red  mask.  "  Perhaps  I  tell  thee  good-bye,"  he 
whispered,  as  he  bent  over  it.  It  was  the  mask  Rosa- 
munda  had  lost  in  the  arbor.  The  Frenchman  kissed 
the  holes  through  which  her  eyes  had  looked,  the  little 
hollow  where  her  nose  had  rested,  the  place  where  her 
lips  had  breathed  their  sweetness,  —  ah,  that  thought ! 
Then  upon  the  edge  of  the  mask  he  boxed  the  compass. 
It  was,  after  all,  an  unsatisfactory  substitute.  The  mask 
smelled  more  of  paint  than  of  Rosamunda.  He  thrust  it 

180 


HOME    IN    THE    WOODEN     GLOVE 

back  into  his  bosom.  As  he  started  away,  he  discovered 
that  his  foot  had  caught  in  some  pliant  object.  He 
stopped,  and  found  a  second  mask.  Here  was  a  strange 
coincidence !  He  carried  it  to  the  moonlight,  and  was 
immediately  reminded  of  poor  Bluemask.  But  the  next 
moment  he  smiled  at  himself.  Had  she  worn  the  only 
blue  mask  in  the  world  ?  He  walked  silently  to  the  corner 
of  the  glover's  shop.  Here  a  pair  of  outside  stairs  ran 
up  to  a  door  in  the  second  floor.  The  young  man 
ascended  the  stairs ;  but  instead  of  stepping  upon  the 
triangular  balcony  that  led  to  the  door,  he  gained  the 
ledge  of  stone,  and  began  to  edge  his  way  along  the  face 
of  the  building.  He  was  in  shadow.  His  distance 
from  the  ground,  and  the  narrowness  of  the  ledge, 
caused  him  some  uneasiness,  especially  as  his  bag 
sometimes  slipped  between  him  and  the  wall.  But  at 
last  he  reached  the  spot  where  he  could  look  into  the 
wooden  glove.  He  found  that  it  was  securely  fastened 
upon  the  pole  by  an  iron  rod  which  ran  through  the 
middle  of  the  image  and  projected  several  feet  above. 
The  opening  lacked  but  two  feet  of  touching  the  ledge. 
Belle-Isle  stooped  cautiously  and  felt  the  structure.  He 
could  shake  it,  but  not  dangerously.  The  next  moment 
he  had  disappeared  within  its  protection. 

Belle-Isle  had  found  his  lodging-place.  In  the  middle 
of  the  glove  he  could  almost  stand  erect.  With  arms 
extended  he  could  barely  touch  the  opposite  sides. 
With  a  sigh  of  content  he  slipped  past  the  iron  rod  that 
stood  as  a  pillar  in  the  hallway,  and  crawled  to  the  hol- 
lows that  appeared  as  ringers  to  the  outside  world.  They 

181 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

were  one  above  another  like  small  round  cells.  In  the 
highest  he  thrust  his  bundle.  In  the  lowest,  which  was 
a  plump,  commodious  thumb,  he  lay  down  to  rest. 
There  was  a  convenient  aperture  at  the  end,  through 
which  he  could  smell  the  fragrant  world  while  he  slept. 

The  next  morning,  long  before  there  was  any  danger 
of  any  one  appearing  in  the  street,  he  dressed  in  his 
crimson  doublet,  stuffed  his  ragged  clothes  in  his  attic, 
and  prepared  to  descend.  He  had  been  asleep  only  a 
few  hours,  but  he  was  quite  refreshed  and  ready  for  his 
adventure.  It  was  darker  than  when  he  had  climbed  to 
his  new  home,  for  the  big  moon  lay  low  and  heavy  in 
the  sky,  and  the  H6tel  de  Ville  cast  a  black  shadow 
over  the  Great  Square.  Belle-Isle  buckled  on  his  sword 
and  stepped  upon  the  stone  ledge.  He  noticed  a  little 
window  which  he  had  passed  on  his  arrival.  It  was 
square,  and  made  of  glazed  linen.  He  tried  it  and  was 
surprised  to  find  it  unfastened.  He  passed,  thinking  of 
it  no  more.  When  he  reached  the  ground,  he  wandered 
in  unfrequented  streets,  always  walking  as  if  upon  some 
pressing  business.  At  half-past  eight  he  stood  partially 
hidden  behind  a  brick  wall,  where  he  could  watch  the 
home  of  Madame  de  Jasse,  the  palace  that  protected  the 
Duke  of  Alva  and  his  friends,  among  whom  were  Gon- 
zalvo  and  —  Rosamunda  ! 

Belle-Isle  did  not  long  remain  in  his  niche.  He  glided 
before  the  closed  gates  of  the  palace,  and  stood  care- 
lessly humming  a  Spanish  song,  as  if  unaware  that  there 
was  one  within  those  gates  who  would  have  given  much 
to  run  that  crimson  doublet  through  with  a  sword  of 

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HOME    IN     THE    WOODEN    GLOVE 

vengeance.  At  last  a  man  drew  near,  a  man  with  a 
furtive  manner,  a  cowering  look,  who  often  glanced  be- 
hind him,  and  kept  his  hand  constantly  upon  his  sword. 

"  Ho,  comrade,"  said  Belle-Isle,  stopping  his  song. 
"  So  we  are  come  at  last,  hein?  Yet  thy  nine  o'clock  is 
still  waiting  to  be  born." 

"Thou  knowest  me?"  asked  the  other  in  a  husky 
voice. 

"  I  know  a  true  Catholic  when  I  see  him !  "  cried 
Belle-Isle,  clapping  the  other  upon  the  shoulder. 
"  Come,  we  must  settle  this  business  in  another  place. 
The  Duke  is  much  wearied  from  his  night's  diversions, 
and  hath  given  orders  not  to  have  the  household  roused 
though  Elizabeth  come  from  England  to  pay  him  a 
visit!" 

The  other  followed  Belle-Isle  in  silence,  still  glancing 
about  him  nervously. 

"  It  was  well  done,"  said  Belle-Isle,  as  he  led  the  way. 
"There  were  fifty-five,  and  had  almost  been  fifty-six, 
by  Bel  —  by  all  the  saints  !  I  have  the  money  for  thee, 
brave  Christian  soldier,  and  the  thanks  of  Alva  besides." 
He  resumed  his  song. 

"  It  was  easy  enough,"  said  the  other  with  a  harsh 
laugh.  "  There  was  an  old  fool,  Joost  van  Boendale ; 
he  was  proselytizing.  I  pretended  to  be  a  convert,  and 
he  opened  his  heart.  He  did  not  tell  me  of  the  rat-trap, 
but  I  followed  him  and  discovered  the  hole." 

"Thou  art  no  Spaniard,  I  think?"  said  the  French- 
man carelessly. 

"  Nay,  I  am  a  Flemish  burgher,  by  thy  leave." 

'83 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Now,  by  the  saints !  "  cried  Belle-Isle,  "  thou  hast 
given  up  many  of  thy  countrymen  to  dancing  flames  !  " 

"  They  are  no  countrymen  of  mine,"  said  the  other 
roughly.  "  As  God  lives,  we  have  no  country  any  more, 
and  it  is  Spain  or  the  devil !  How  far  do  we  fare, 
senor?" 

"  Why,  to  the  river,  an  it  please  thee,  good  burgher. 
This  money  is  a  large  sum,  and  I  have  it  in  hiding. 
Thy  reward,  in  brief,  is  at  that  very  rathole  from  which 
so  many  of  the  heretics  have  been  chased.  The  sol- 
diers guard  it  and  await  us.  Come,  let  us  be  brisk, 
worthy  soul." 

"Why,  I  like  this  very  well,"  said  the  Fleming. 
"There  I  earned  my  prize;  there  let  me  receive  it." 

"  Ay,  good  sir,  ay,  it  was  Alva's  thought.  He  is  full 
of  a  many  such  quaint  and  delicate  idea."  Belle-Isle 
resumed  his  song  and  did  not  pause  till  he  had  come  in 
sight  of  the  deserted  house  where  the  fatal  trapdoor  had 
been  built.  As  soon  as  they  were  near,  Belle-Isle  sud- 
denly raised  a  shout  for  help,  and  falling  upon  his  com- 
panion, felled  him  to  the  earth.  The  soldiers,  who  had 
been  hiding,  waiting  for  fresh  victims  to  crawl  into  their 
own  trap,  rushed  forth. 

"  It  is  that  Belle-Isle  who  delivered  up  the  heretics," 
cried  the  commander. 

"  Ay,  hither  !  "  shouted  Belle-Isle.  "  I  have  a  fresh 
heretic  for  the  roasting.  I  have  beguiled  him  hither 
with  infinite  labor  and  patience." 

"  Lies,  lies,  lies !  "  shouted  the  burgher,  but  Belle- 
Isle  gripped  his  windpipe  and  the  words  died  away. 

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HOME    IN    THE    WOODEN     GLOVE 

"  He  fought  shy  of  me  at  first,"  said  Belle-Isle, 
"  he  was  a  cautious  villain.  But  I  pretended  to  be 
a  vile  unbeliever  like  himself.  He  is  one  of  these 
anabaptists  who  have  seven  wives  because  seven  is 
a  sacred  number.  A  week  of  wives,  ay,  as  I  am  a 
Christian  !  " 

"Turn  his  windpipe  out  to  play,"  said  the  soldier 
who  had  been  addressed  as  Rodrigo.  "  For  by  the 
Holy  Wounds,  he  will  never  live  to  die,  an  thy  fingers 
so  squeeze  his  pipe  of  life ! " 

Belle-Isle  rose  and  the  soldiers  took  the  burgher  in 
charge.  The  young  man  knew  from  his  own  experience 
that  they  would  not  suffer  their  prisoner  to  speak,  and 
even  if  he  should  attempt  his  defence,  who  would  believe 
him?  The  Frenchman  had  conclusive  knowledge  from 
his  experience  in  the  prison  that  few  ever  saw  the  real 
betrayer  of  the  reformers,  —  perhaps  Alva  alone  knew 
the  wretch.  There  was  little  danger  that  Alva  would 
take  the  trouble  to  investigate  the  rights  of  the  prisoner. 
"  A  prisoner  of  the  Inquisition  "  might  be  translated  : 
"  a  victim  for  the  stake."  But  even  if  this  traitor  should 
be  set  at  liberty,  which  could  only  be  after  a  long  period 
of  waiting,  Belle-Isle  had  had  his  adventure,  and  he  was 
high  in  the  favor  of  the  Spaniards.  So  long  as  he  did 
not  encounter  Gonzalvo  looking  for  a  certain  crimson 
doublet,  —  and  there  were  many  crimson  doublets  in 
Brussels,  —  all  would  be  well.  It  is  true  that  Joost 
would  recognize  his  supposed  convert  if  brought  face  to 
face.  But  it  was  the  custom  of  that  day  to  keep  prison- 
ers in  solitary  confinement;  doubtless  Joost  was  in  some 

185 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

lonely  dungeon,  deprived  of  the  companionship  of  his 
daughter  and  sister-in-law. 

Belle-Isle  remained  with  the  soldiers  who  guarded  the 
reformers'  retreat.  He  became  especially  friendly  with 
Rodrigo,  sharing  his  breakfast.  He  found  the  soldier 
without  that  polish  which  so  often  concealed  Spanish 
cruelty,  but  his  heart  seemed  permeated  with  a  certain 
bloody  good-nature.  It  was  dangerous  bravado  on  Belle- 
Isle's  part,  and  at  last  he  relinquished  the  delight  of  dan- 
ger, and  took  his  departure,  followed  by  the  rude  but 
kind  farewells  of  Rodrigo.  Belle-Isle  left  the  place,  his 
heart  dancing  with  this  sudden  friendship.  Rodrigo 
would  have  been  impossible  in  polite  society,  on  account 
of  his  oaths ;  but  as  a  huge  morsel  of  human  flesh  with 
passions,  and  a  grin  that  turned  out  every  gum  naked  to 
the  world,  the  Frenchman  thought  him  a  delight. 

Belle-Isle  passed  the  rest  of  the  day  in  obscure  taverns. 
It  was  his  intention  to  appeal  to  Rosamunda  for  the  re- 
lease of  his  friends.  But  how  to  reach  her  ear  without 
discovery  gave  him  all  he  wished  to  think  of,  without 
any  immediate  prospect  of  having  an  exhausted  subject 
upon  his  mind.  Shops  closed  early  in  those  days,  and 
before  the  moon  rose  the  streets  were  very  dark,  save 
when  link  boys  preceded  drunken  soldiers,  or  dainty 
nobles  in  their  chairs.  The  young  man  went  to  the 
Grand  Square  when  the  shops  were  closed.  The  H6tel 
de  Ville  was  still  brilliant,  and  the  Brood-huis  opposite 
showed  signs  of  life.  He  dared  not  ascend  to  his  apart- 
ments till  the  sounds  sank  to  a  hum,  and  the  lights  were 
softened.  When  he  reached  the  ledge,  his  attention 

186 


HOME    IN    THE    WOODEN     GLOVE 

was  attracted  by  the  little  window  which  he  had  tried 
that  morning.  Something  white  lay  upon  the  sill, 
caught  in  the  sash.  It  was  a  lady's  handkerchief. 
He  softly  opened  the  sash,  secured  the  handkerchief, 
moved  by  a  mild  curiosity,  and  gained  the  glove. 

After  a  profound  sleep,  he  prepared  his  toilet  just 
before  daybreak  by  donning  the  beggar's  suit.  He  was 
now  done  with  his  gallant  attire  for  some  time,  and  he 
sighed  as  he  pushed  the  bag  into  its  receptacle,  and 
placed  the  sword  beside  it.  The  little  finger  of  the 
image  slanted  downward  in  such  a  way  that  the  bag  and 
sword  were  invisible  from  the  grand  saloon,  as  he 
termed  the  body  of  the  glove  with  its  iron  pillar.  He 
noted  this  with  satisfaction,  reflecting  that  should  such 
an  improbable  accident  occur  as  the  invasion  of  the 
house,  his  property  would  almost  certainly  remain 
undiscovered. 

When  he  reached  the  ground  he  was  a  beggar.  It 
was  still  necessary  to  become  an  old  man.  This  was 
accomplished  by  a  stick  to  lean  upon,  a  shrinking  of  the 
body,  a  humping  of  the  shoulders,  a  racking  cough,  and 
a  nasal  tone.  He  gave  an  artistic  completeness  to  his 
appearance  by  gathering  a  goodly  heap  of  dust  from 
a  vacant  lot  and  thoroughly  scouring  his  hair,  face, 
neck,  hands,  arms,  and  limbs  in  the  dry  wash.  He  felt 
a  deep  satisfaction  in  his  appearance.  Through  holes 
in  his  dingy  stockings  the  skin  appeared  as  the  skin  of 
one  who  has  lived  close  to  the  earth  through  many 
improvident  years.  Skilful  lines  upon  his  face  from  a 
blackened  stick  gave  the  effect  of  age.  His  hair  lost 

187 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

the  lustre  of  youth  though  it  was  still  dark  —  as  if  it 
lacked  the  vitality  even  to  grow  gray.  This  old  man 
walked  slowly  along  with  bowed  head,  his  stick  much  in 
evidence.  There  was  only  one  object  about  him  not 
in  keeping  with  his  character ;  that  was  a  lady's  hand- 
kerchief in  his  bosom.  Upon  that  handkerchief  the 
following  name  was  worked  in  silk:  "Enrique  de 
Oviedo  y  Valdez."  Yes,  it  was  Rosamunda's  handker- 
chief. How  came  it  in  the  little  window  above  the 
ledge?  And,  whence  had  fallen  that  blue  mask  at  the 
foot  of  the  signpost?  Here  were  two  mysteries. 

Belle-Isle  was  unable  to  drive  the  thought  from  his 
mind  that  both  Rosamunda  and  Bluemask  had  been 
near  his  lodging-house,  the  former  since  he  had  taken 
up  his  quarters  in  the  glove,  but  Bluemask  before. 
Why  had  she  come  there  the  very  night  of  the  masque- 
rade? If  the  mask  was  not  Bluemask's,  still  the  hand- 
kerchief was  unmistakable.  Had  Rosamunda  brought 
it  herself?  All  day  Belle-Isle  haunted  the  Grand 
Square.  He  limped,  he  coughed,  he  whined,  he  begged, 
but  not  a  glimpse  of  Rosamunda,  not  a  glimpse  of 
Bluemask.  Late  in  the  afternoon  he  wearied  of  the 
scene,  and  set  forth  toward  the  palace  of  Madame  de 
Jasse.  Perhaps  he  might  be  granted  a  glimpse  of 
Rosamunda  in  her  soldier's  dress.  But  no;  darkness 
came  and  his  persistence  was  unrewarded.  He  saw 
Gonzalvo,  who  passed  near  him  without  recognition. 
He  met  Rodrigo,  who  stared  at  him  insolently  and 
ordered  him  out  of  the  way.  But  the  owner  of  the 
handkerchief  did  not  appear. 

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HOME     IN    THE    WOODEN    GLOVE 

He  passed  a  restless  night  in  the  glove,  and  the  next 
day  hovered  persistently  about  Madame  de  Jasse's  palace. 
Once  he  saw  Rosamunda  at  a  window,  but  she  did  not 
look  toward  him.  Another  day  wasted !  But  Belle- 
Isle  was  not  dispirited.  The  pure  joy  of  acting  his 
part,  of  brushing  against  Rodrigo,  of  looking  into  the 
eyes  of  Gonzalvo,  animated  him  like  wine.  He  was 
spending  happy  days  of  adventure  and  mystery.  Life 
in  the  glove  was  enough  to  reward  him  for  the  dust  in 
his  hair.  His  uneasiness  for  Wilhelmina  (the  other 
prisoners  did  not  count  very  much  with  the  young  man) 
had  been  set  at  rest  by  a  suspension  of  executions. 
Everything  was  in  abeyance  until  the  Council  of 
Troubles  should  be  organized.  Until  then,  the  Nether- 
landers  had  a  respite  from  persecution.  Prisoners  were 
still  taken  in  droves  to  prisons,  but  the  fires  of  religious 
fervor  were  being  kept  for  the  day  of  wrath. 

Belle-Isle  sought  his  favorite  bedroom,  the  hollow 
thumb,  and  lay  down  to  a  well-earned  rest.  At  first  he 
did  not  know  why  his  usual  comfort  was  disturbed : 
then  he  realized  that  he  lay  upon  a  small  object.  He 
wondered  sleepily  what  it  could  be.  He  thrust  his 
hand  under  his  side  impatiently. 

The  next  moment  he  sat  up  so  suddenly  that  his 
head  bumped  sharply  against  the  low  ceiling.  Even 
this  bump  did  not  drive  wonder  from  his  suffering  head. 
The  object  in  his  hand  was  a  dagger,  small  and  keen. 
It  was  not  a  man's  weapon.  What  then?  Some  one 
had  been  here  upon  a  visit,  —  a  lady  !  Belle-Isle  crawled 
out  into  his  grand  saloon.  He  stared  through  the 

189 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

opening  at  the  linen  window.  No  sign  of  life.  His 
presence  in  the  glove  could  not  have  been  discovered, 
for  there  was  no  message  in  a  dagger.  Belle-Isle  ex- 
amined his  bag  and  sword  to  learn  if  they  had  been 
discovered.  They  lay  as  they  had  been  left.  It  might 
be  that  the  owner  of  the  little  weapon  would  come  for 
it.  He  must  not  be  discovered.  The  Frenchman 
placed  the  dagger  in  the  extreme  end  of  the  thumb. 
Then  he  climbed  into  the  hollow  of  the  third  ringer, 
where  he  could  lie  at  full  length.  His  head  was  toward 
the  body  of  the  glove.  He  did  not  sleep.  He  was 
listening.  After  all,  it  might  be  a  man  who  left  the 
dagger. 

It  was  very  dark  where  he  lay,  and  by  contrast  it 
appeared  almost  light  at  the  mouth  of  the  strange 
house.  Hours  passed  by.  Belle-Isle  grew  uneasy.  It 
would  soon  be  time  for  him  to  slip  from  his  retreat. 
Perhaps  there  was  half  an  hour  left  for  his  watching. 

He  heard  a  soft  noise  from  the  stone  ledge,  and  his 
heart  leaped.  He  held  his  drawn  sword,  determined 
not  to  be  exposed.  A  form  appeared  at  the  opening, 
the  slight  form  of  a  woman.  Her  features  could  not  be 
discerned.  The  woman  stealthily  entered.  Belle-Isle 
took  his  hand  from  the  hilt  of  his  sword.  There  would 
be  no  use  for  it,  at  all  events.  The  woman  came  for- 
ward, and  sank  upon  her  knees.  He  heard  her  feeling 
upon  the  rounded  floor. 

Suddenly  she  spoke.  "  I  must  have  left  it  here,"  she 
said  eagerly.  "  Oh,  I  must  have  left  it  here !  If  I  did 
not,  what  shall  become  of  me?  Oh!  oh!"  She  had 

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HOME     IN    THE    WOODEN    GLOVE 

found  what  she  sought.  Belle-Isle  heard  the  scrape  of 
the  dagger-hilt  upon  the  side  of  the  thumb.  Belle-Isle 
had  also  found  what  he  sought,  —  the  solution  of  her 
identity.  The  voice  from  that  slight  form  was  the  voice 
of  the  girl  known  to  him  as  Anna,  or  "  Bluemask." 


i9t 


Chapter    Thirteen 

A   WOODEN  GLOVE  FOR  TWO 

BELLE-ISLE  was  confronted  with  the  problem 
of  making  himself  known  to  Bluemask,  with- 
out driving  her  panic-stricken  from  the  wooden 
glove.      After   all,   there   was    but  one  way. 
The   young   man   spoke:     "Fear   not   lady, —  I  am   a 
friend." 

At  the  same  time  he  dropped  from  the  cavity  of  the 
third  finger,  to  prevent  her  flight.  For  a  moment  the  girl 
was  rigid  from  the  terrible  shock.  The  Frenchman,  who 
had  foreseen  this  favorable  moment  of  suspense,  hastened 
to  take  advantage  of  it.  "  I  am  a  poor  old  man,  lady, 
one  who  begs  crumbs  from  rich  men's  tables.  There 
is  no  harm  in  me.  I  am  wasted  away  from  age  and 
disease  —  "  he  paused  to  cough  softly  —  "  and  I  beg 
that  my  feeble  body  may  give  thee  no  alarm.  I  am 
upon  the  edge  of  the  grave,  lady,  have  pity  upon  me !  " 
Bluemask  wiggled  out  of  the  hollow  thumb,  and  found 
him  opposite  her  retreat.  "Let  me  go,"  she  said,  in 
a  quivering  voice.  "  My  God !  Oh,  my  father,  my 
mother  !  "  she  moaned. 

"  Let  thee  pass,  lady?     Alas,  how  could  these  feeble 
bony  arms  hinder  thy  progress?     Throw  me  down,  and 

192 


A    WOODEN    GLOVE    FOR    TWO 

trample  upon  me.  I  am  as  wax.  But,  oh,  for  pity,  hear 
my  prayer !  " 

He  suffered  her  to  creep  past  him,  and  as  she  paused 
in  the  mouth  of  the  glove,  she  became  somewhat  re- 
assured. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  I  will  hear  thee." 

"  Lady,  behold  a  miserable  old  man  who  drags  upon 
his  stick  with  no  light  in  his  life.  I  am  driven  from  my 
home  by  my  own  son.  Where  shall  I  go?  I  have 
nothing.  I  become  a  beggar.  From  the  taverns  I  am 
expelled.  The  soldiers  insult  me.  I  am  exposed  to  the 
heavens.  I  discover  this  giant  glove.  I  say,  '  Here  is 
my  home !  '  I  ascend.  In  the  daytime  I  go  forth  to 
beg  enough  to  feed  my  wasted  body.  Now,  O  lady,  wilt 
thou  expose  me?  Wilt  betray  me,  and  have  me  driven 
from  my  only  resting-place?" 

"  No,  poor  old  man,  I  will  not  betray  thee,"  said  the 
other  in  a  gentle  voice.  "  Should  I  betray  thee,  who  am 
myself  hiding  from  the  world?  Nay,  I  think  I  know 
thy  voice." 

"  It  may  well  be,"  said  Belle-Isle  with  a  sudden 
thought,  "  for  day  before  yesterday  I  stood  near  this 
sign  all  day,  begging  of  the  hard-hearted  passers-by." 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  I  watched  thee  through  the 
hole  in  the  floor.  I  saw  how  they  pushed  thee  aside, 
and  how  thou  didst  almost  fall  to  the  ground.  Poor  old 
man,  rest  content ;  thou,  a  wanderer,  hast  found  a  friend 
in  a  wanderer." 

"  Now  the  blessings  of  heaven  descend  upon  thy  head, 
lady,"  said  the  Frenchman.  "  And  may  I  return  hither 
13  193 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

to-night  without  fear  of  being  seized  and  thrown  into  a 
dungeon?  " 

"  Without  fear,  old  man.  Behold,  I  pass  here  my 
days,  and  why  shouldst  thou  not  here  pass  thy  nights? 
We  cannot  be  in  each  other's  way ;  the  little  girl  and 
the  old  man  have  a  secret  between  them,  I  think  — the 
secret  of  sorrow." 

"  Alas  that  I  may  not  bear  that  secret  alone  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  cannot  think  of  one  so  young  and  fair 
forced  to  hide  in  such  a  place." 

"  And  how  knowes   thou  that  I  am  fair?  " 

"Dost  thou  ask,  maiden?  Nay,  to  the  old  man, 
youth  itself  is  beauty,  for  upon  the  form  of  youth  he 
sees  the  gilding  of  life's  morning  sun.  I  must  be  gone 
before  the  dawn.  Tell  me,  shalt  thou  be  alone  in  this 
place  throughout  the  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  all  alone,  and  the  hours  are  so  slow !  One 
seems  to  stand  still  that  the  next  may  catch  up  with  it. 
But  I  have  come  before  my  time,  because  I  lost  my  dag- 
ger ;  that  is  my  only  friend  in  this  place.  I  pray  thee 
pause  to  eat.  Art  thou  not  hungry?  " 

"  Alas,  damsel,  I  am  never  alone,  for  hunger  holds 
my  hand  by  day,  and  whispers  in  my  ear  at  night." 

"  A  grisly  companion  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  she  stepped 
upon  the  stone  ledge  and  returned  with  a  large  box. 
"  Here  are  my  conveniences  for  the  day,"  she  went  on : 
"  It  is  too  dark  to  see,  but  thou  art  no  true  beggar  an 
thou  canst  not  feel  with  thy  nose  !  In  this  compartment 
is  food.  Here  is  my  jar  of  water  that  grows  so  hot  at 
noon ;  here  my  pillow,  and  other  poor  shifts  of  comfort." 

194 


A    WOODEN    GLOVE    FOR    TWO 

"What  shall  I  take,  lady?" 

"  Whatever  thou  wilt.  I  am  never  hungry,  any  more. 
Oh,  it  is  such  a  joy  to  speak  to  thee,  —  I  am  sick  of — 
I  am  so  glad  I  watched  thee,  that  day.  I  know  just  how 
thy  poor  back  is  bowed  and  how  thy  cough  racks  thy 
weak  frame.  I  remember  thy  face,  too.  How  old  art 
thou?  " 

"  Seventy,  lady.  I  fear  I  rob  thee,  but  this  venison  is 
much  to  my  tooth.  By  Bel  —  by  my  swo  —  by  the 
blessed  saints,  there  is  no  gravy  like  hunger !  " 

"  My  heart  warms  with  thy  delight,"  she  said  softly. 
"  Yet  thy  hair  is  black,  for  there  was  such  a  hole  in  thy 
hat !  And  thou  hast  no  wig?  " 

"  Black  as  a  crow,"  said  Belle-Isle,  eating.  "  It  runs 
in  our  blood.  My  ungrateful  son,  —  his  hair  is  like  fine 
silk.  There  is  not  a  gray  hair  in  my  head,  lady,  not 
one !  My  father  lived  to  be  ninety  before  a  gray  hair 
came.  He  plucked  it,  for  he  had  a  pride.  He  did  not 
live  long  after  that.  God  rest  his  soul,  he  was  a  good 
man !  " 

"  I  have  a  father,"  said  the  girl,  "  and  he  was  so  kind 
to  me ;  and  my  mother  loves  me,  —  oh,  that  is  what 
makes  my  grief  heavier  to  bear,  she  loves  me  so.  I  am 
their  only  child.  But  what  may  I  call  thee?" 

"  Call  me  Old  Norman.  I  must  say  farewell.  Thy 
venison  hath  relieved  me  of  my  faintness.  Blessings 
upon  thee,  lady  !  But  before  I  go,  —  didst  ever  look  in 
the  little  finger  of  this  mighty  glove?" 

"When  first  I  came  here,  Old  Norman,  —  it  was  the 
night  of  the  masquerade,  —  I  searched  well  the  place. 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Since  then,  I  have  been  so  occupied  with  thoughts  of — • 
of  —  of—  " 

"Yes,  lady,  I  understand,  —  of  him  for  whose  sake 
thou  hast  deserted  father  and  mother.  Alas  for  us  who 
are  wrapped  up  in  our  children,  how  often  our  affection 
is  turned  out  bare  to  the  freezing  ingratitude  of  those 
we  love ! " 

"  They  are  cruel  words,  Old  Norman  !  "  said  the  girl, 
beginning  to  sob.  "  I  love  my  parents  as  much  as  ever ; 
only,  a  new  love  hath  entered  my  life,  which  calls  me  to 
its  service.  Did  not  thy  father  and  mother  leave  their 
parents  for  each  other?" 

"  Do  not  weep,  child.  I  was  thinking  of  my  own  son. 
Listen  !  That  very  night  of  the  Count's  masquerade,  he 
came  home  in  a  fine  passion,  saying  he  had  been  in  a 
duel  with  a  little  soldier,  and  had  been  overcome.  I 
ventured  to  upbraid  him  for  his  lavish  display,  for  he 
could  ill  afford  the  crimson  doublet  and  peach-colored 
cloak  he  had  bought." 

"  The  little  soldier  !  "  echoed  Bluemask ;  "  the  crim- 
son doublet !  " 

"Ay,  child.  I  reproached  him  with  his  extravagance. 
Whereupon  he  stripped  his  fine  suit  from  his  back,  cast 
it  at  me,  and  turned  me  out  of  the  house  into  the  night. 
Alas !  He  hath  newly  married  a  lady,  and  it  was  her 
doing,  I  trow.  Well,  I  put  that  suit  in  a  bag,  and  fetched 
it  hither,  and  it  is  in  the  hollow  next  our  ceiling,  with 
his  sword  beside  it.  At  the  worst  I  shall  sell  them  to 
keep  me  alive.  But  as  long  as  I  can  beg  sustenance,  I 
keep  them  for  the  love  of  my  poor  son  whom  marriage 

196 


A    WOODEN    GLOVE    FOR    TWO 

hath  hardened.  Farewell,  lady.  To-day  I  will  loiter 
in  the  Grand  Square,  and  the  sight  of  me  may  cheer  thy 
lonely  heart." 

"  Thou  art  a  kind  old  man.  Indeed,  I  pity  thee  for 
that  ungrateful  son  !  Farewell." 

"  I  only  ask  that  thou  come  early  to-morrow  morning, 
that  we  may  converse  a  little,  for  it  cheers  my  poor  old 
aching  heart  when  the  wine  of  thy  youthful  voice  is 
poured  into  my  ear."  Belle-Isle  descended  to  the  de- 
serted square,  smiling  behind  the  mask  that  the  friendly 
darkness  held  before  his  face. 

He  often  passed  back  and  forth  in  the  Great  Square 
ofBrussels,  during  the  morning,  sometimes  glancing 
slyly  up  toward  the  thumb  of  the  wooden  glove.  He 
had  never  been  so  bowed  with  age,  never  so  dependent 
upon  his  staff.  His  cough  was  heard  above  the  tramp 
of  soldiers,  and  his  plaintive  petition  for  alms  was 
whined  above  the  clatter  of  hoofs.  Later  in  the  day  he 
took  up  his  position  in  that  other  scene  of  his  daily  act- 
ing,—  the  street  before  the  splendid  home  of  Madame 
de  Jasse. 

At  last  he  saw  Gonzalvo  de  Oviedo  entering  the 
palace.  Belle-Isle,  with  that  reckless  daring  that  sweet- 
ened sourest  moments  to  his  palate,  accosted  the  sol- 
dier. "  God's  blessing  upon  thy  noble  head,  senor, 
but  canst  tell  me  if  one  Enrique  de  Oviedo  y  Varrez 
is  within?" 

Gonzalvo  stopped  motionless  upon  the  first  step. 
His  keen  black  eyes  flashed  over  the  humble  form  of  the 
beggar.  It  was  a  stern  and  unrelenting  face,  with  a 

197 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

thin  mouth  that  spoke  of  cruelty  and  disdain.     "  What 
wouldst  thou  with  Enrique,  fellow?" 

"  I  would  speak  with  him,  noble  senor,"  quavered 
Belle-Isle.  "  I  have  found  that  which  belongs  to  him. 
A  warrior  told  me  he  abides  here.  I  would  return  him 
his  property  and  thus  obtain  money,  belike." 

"  I  am  his  father,"  said  Gonzalvo,  stepping  down  into 
the  street.  "  Give  me  this  property,  fellow,  and  I  will 
reward  thee." 

"  Nay,  but  I  cannot  give  it  unto  thee,  most  puissant 
hidalgo,"  said  the  other,  and  began  to  cough  violently. 

"  What !  "  cried  the  other,  his  dark  face;  suddenly 
becoming  ugly  with  a  look  of  aroused  suspicion,  rather 
than  of  anger.  "  Dost  exchange  words  with  me,  mis- 
erable old  man?  Deliver  at  once  that  precious  parcel ! 
Old  man,"  he  continued,  grasping  Belle-Isle's  wrist, 
"how  knewest  thou  of  my  son?  How  knewest  thou 
this  mysterious  object  was  his?  " 

"  His  name  is  writ  thereon,"  said  Belle-Isle,  seeking 
to  draw  away.  "  Thy  grace's  pardon,  cavalier,  but  the 
object  is  no  more  a  secret  than  I,  myself.  'Tis  but  a 
handkerchief;  that  I  know  well,  for  I  have  seen  such  in 
the  hands  of  other  men.  As  for  my  nose,  it  is  not  of 
that  dainty  sort  that  must  be  put  to  bed  every  time  it 
have  a  cold.  No,  no,  gallant  senor,  no  handkerchief 
for  poor  old  Effin  Dijk  Dirk,  —  such  being  my  name,  at 
thy  service,  an  it  please  thee,  senor.  For  I  am  as  pure- 
water  a  Dutchman  as  ever  held  liquor." 

"  Have  done,  fellow,  and  give  me  the  handkerchief." 

"  Nay,  I  must  go  and  fetch  it,  for  I  left  it  in  the 

198 


A    WOODEN    GLOVE    FOR    TWO 

loft  where  I  sleep.  Wilt  wait  for  me  in  very  truth, 
senor?  " 

"  Where  foundest  thou  this  handkerchief?  "  demanded 
the  Spaniard,  his  eyes  narrowing  to  dangerous-looking 
slits  of  wickedness. 

"  It  was  in  front  of  the  Count  of  Egmont's  palace, 
handsome  gentleman,"  replied  Belle-Isle. 

"  Look  thou,  varlet,  didst  come  here  with  a  certain 
message  to  deliver  Enrique?"  asked  Gonzalvo ;  "for 
now  that  I  recollect,  he  was  expecting  a  message  this 
very  day.  Thou  hast  surely  come  with  this  message, 
good  old  man.  Deliver  it  to  me,  and  thy  pocket  shall 
jingle  with  gold  coins." 

"  Lackaday,  senor !  it  would  jingle  indeed,  if  I  had 
any  imagination  to  jingle  in  my  brain.  For  thy  offer 
is  enough  to  tempt  me  to  invent  some  message  for  this 
cavalier.  But  what  can  I  say?  I  have  no  message,  and 
I  am  no  poet." 

Gonzalvo  turned  from  the  beggar  with  a  sigh  of  evi- 
dent relief.  He  was  such  a  suspicious  gentleman,  that 
Belle-Isle  did  not  venture  to  recall  him.  He  trusted 
fortune  to  send  Rosamunda  forth;  but  fortune  proved 
a  jealous  mistress  that  day,  and  night  came  without  a 
crown  of  success.  Belle-Isle  sought  his  lodging-house, 
not  with  repining.  And  there  was  little  Bluemask  to 
talk  to,  in  the  gloom  before  the  dawn,  —  if  she  came 
true  to  his  request. 

As  he  had  scarcely  slept  the  night  before,  his  slumber 
was  now  profound.  He  awoke  with  the  startling  fear 
that  he  had  overslept  his  hour  of  departure.  But  the 

199 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

darkness  at  once  reassured  him.  The  sound  of  sobbing 
came  to  his  ears.  He  started  up.  Near  the  entrance 
of  the  glove  sat  little  Bluemask,  her  box  beside  her.  As 
he  saw  no  faint  spots  of  light  against  the  night,  and  as 
her  sobbing  was  persistent,  he  concluded  that  her  face 
was  buried  in  her  hands,  and  her  hands  were  hidden 
upon  her  knees. 

"  What  is  it,  little  friend?"  asked  Belle-Isle. 

"Oh,  Norman,  poor  Old  Norman!  "  sobbed  the  girl, 
"  do  not  ask.  Thou  couldst  not  understand  unless 
thou  couldst  creep  backward  forty  years,  and  be  young 
again." 

"  Well,  lady,  I  can  not  only  creep  back  that  far,  but 
fly,  for  there  is  no  soul  so  sluggish  with  age  that  it  has 
not  the  wings  of  memory  to  bear  it  to  its  young  nest." 

At  first  she  made  no  response,  but  her  sobbing  ceased. 
Then  she  said,  "  What  are  my  tears  to  thee?  " 

"  Nay,  it  is  only  he  who  hath  no  tears  of  his  own, 
that  cannot  feel  the  tears  of  other.  Tell  the  old  beggar 
thy  sorrow,  and  the  confidence  of  a  pure  sweet  child 
will  make  him  rich,  though  he  hath  not  wherewith  to 
buy  his  breakfast." 

"  Thou  art  a  good  man,  Norman ;  I  would  we  had 
light  that  I  might  look  into  thine  honest  face." 

"  By  Bel  —  by  my  swo  —  by  my  rags,  lady  !  I  have 
a  wish  that  would  be  a  fit  running  mate  to  thine.  For 
by  this  same  hypothetical  light,  could  I  not  feast  my 
poor  old  eyes  upon  thy  youth?  Alas!  We  must  be 
friends  in  the  dark,  but  methinks  I  can  lighten  up  this 
darkness  not  a  little.  Thy  tears  are  for  thy  lover." 

200 


A    WOODEN     GLOVE    FOR    TWO 

"  Oh,  oh,  who  hath  told  thee?  " 

"  There  is  one  tells  me  the  secrets  of  others,  lady. 
His  name  is  Experience.  Our  duty  is  for  our  parents ; 
our  smiles,  for  our  friends ;  our  kind  words,  for  strangers ; 
but  our  tears  for  our  lovers.  He  did  not  come  last 
night.  Morning  threatened  thee  with  his  sword  of 
light.  So  here  thou  earnest  to  the  old  beggar,  leaving 
a  dead  hope  behind."  He  heard  her  sobbing  afresh. 
"  Let  not  my  words  startle  thee,  lady.  There  is  no 
harm  in  thine  old  friend,  —  driven  forth  by  his  son  to 
perish !  " 

There  was  silence,  broken  at  last  by  her  voice.  "  I 
pity  thee  for  such  a  son.  What  can  I  say  to  cheer  thy 
heart,  when  thou  hast  been  driven  forth  to  starve  by  the 
very  one  who  should  have  cherished  thee  in  thine  old 
age !  " 

"  Thou  canst  say  nothing,  lady,  since  thou  hast  driven 
thy  father  and  mother  forth  from  the  pastures  of  thy 
heart,  to  starve  for  lack  of  love." 

"  Do  not  say  that—  do  not,  old  man  !  Nay,  they  are 
not  driven  from  my  heart.  Do  I  not  love  them  as  much 
as  ever?  When  they  learn  how  much  I  love  Enrique  — 
for  now  they  will  not  believe  I  must  be  his  wife  or  die, 
—  they  will  see  this  is  all  for  the  best.  Before  long,  we 
shall  all  be  reunited,  —  all  dwell  in  the  same  house. 
They  think  I  am  but  a  child,  —  that  my  love  is  a  whim 
that  will  pass.  Dear  father,  dear  mother !  They  think 
of  me  as  if  I  were  still  their  little  girl  of  nine  or  ten. 
But  behold !  love,  like  a  magic  key,  has  opened  for  me 
those  huge  doors  that  stand  between  dreams  and  life. 

2OI 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

I  have  been  happy,  my  dreams  have  been  sweet.  But, 
oh,  this  new  country  that  my  feet  have  just  entered  ! 
Methinks  love  is  the  lost  Eden  of  the  soul,  and  God 
gives  us  one  peep  therein  on  our  way  through  life  !  " 

"  And  pray,  young  maiden,  whilst  thou  art  peeping 
at  the  tame  lions  and  gathering  flowers  without  thorns, 
thinkest  thou  thy  parents  wait  with  a  contented  smile 
for  a  change  in  the  play?  Is  thy  happiness  worth  the 
agony  thy  disappearance  must  have  caused?  " 

"  Old  Norman,  why  didst  thou  come  here  to  make 
my  life  more  bitter?  "  she  cried  out  sharply. 

"  Then  was  it  bitter  before  ?  How  can  that  be  ?  They 
tell  me  pickles  were  sweeter  than  sugar,  and  vinegar 
more  delicious  than  honey,  when  Eve  set  the  table  in 
the  Garden  of  Eden.  '  I  must  be  Enrique's  wife  or  die  !  ' 
These  are  thy  words.  Thy  parents  will  know  all  is  for 
the  best  when  they  find  out  how  delightful  is  thy  love  ! 
They  think  thou  art  a  child,  when,  behold,  thou  art 
fifteen,  if  I  do  not  mistake.  Dost  thou  know  what  thy 
words  mean  —  '  All  will  be  for  the  best '  ?  It  means  all 
will  be  as  thy  hopes  crave,  though  thou  ride  over  loving 
hearts  to  thy  goal.  Thou  thinkest  when  they  find  out 
how  delightful  is  this  Enrique,  they  will  fall  at  his  feet 
in  raptures  because  he  hath  stolen  their  daughter  from 
them !  Had  he  a  golden  tooth  in  every  socket  of  his 
gums,  he  would  be  to  them  but  a  Spaniard,  come  here 
to  tear  liberty  from  their  feeble  grasp.  Though  he  kiss 
softer  than  a  south  breeze  and  smile  like  an  April  day 
between  its  folds  of  tears,  —  what  then  ?  Thy  father 
does  not  want  his  soft  kisses,  nor  thy  mother  his  smiles. 


A    WOODEN    GLOVE    FOR    TWO 

Nay,  they  want  their  beautiful  child,  the  pride  of  their 
hearts !  " 

She  began  to  sob.  "  Go,  go  away,  Old  Norman  !  "  she 
said  passionately. 

Belle-Isle  instantly  changed  his  falsetto  voice  whose 
shrill  mechanical  notes  had  rendered  his  eloquence  less 
effective  than  he  could  have  wished.  "  I  give  thee 
choice  between  the  old  Norman  and  the  young  Nor- 
man, Bluemask !  Thinkest  thou  I  shall  be  more  to 
thy  liking  with  nigh  fifty  years  peeled  off  my  wrinkled 
skin?" 

The  girl  screamed  and  sought  to  leap  upon  the  ledge 
of  stone  that  faced  the  opening. 

"  Hush,  lady,  hush  !  "  cried  Belle-Isle,  seizing  both  her 
arms.  "  For  the  love  of  heaven  compose  thyself.  If  an 
outcry  is  raised,  not  only  I,  but  thou,  art  lost.  Think  of 
us  both,  and  keep  silent  for  two.  I  swear  by  my  faith, 
I  will  not  harm  thee.  What !  harm  the  little  girl  who 
trusted  me,  and  fed  me  ?  Nay,  Bluemask,  I  am  as  safe 
for  thee  as  if  I  were  any  grandfather." 

"  Do  not  hold  me !  Do  not  come  near  me !  Oh, 
traitor !  " 

"  Then  I  release  thee,  but  I  cannot  let  thee  go  till  we 
understand  each  other." 

"  I  understand  thee  well  enough,"  she  said  fiercely. 
"  Thou  hast  acted  a  part  to  pry  into  my  heart !  " 

"  Nay,  child,  I  knew  thy  story  before  thou  hadst 
spoken  a  word.  Come,  lady,  let  us  think  well  of  each 
other ;  there  will  be  plenty  in  the  world  to  think  ill !  " 

"  Now  I  understand  thy  words  well  enough,"  she  said 

203 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

haughtily.  "  Thou  speakest  against  Enrique  because  he 
overthrew  thee  and  trampled  thee  under  foot,  aha !  " 

"  He  is  doubtless  a  fine  soldier,"  said  Belle-Isle  calmly. 
"  I  do  not  hate  him,  far  from  it.  Come,  be  friends  with 
me,  Anna,  —  for  thus  he  called  thee ;  I  am  only  a  day 
older  than  I  was  yesterday." 

"  I  pray  thee  depart,  or  allow  me  to  pass,  senor." 

Belle-Isle  laughed.  "  Now,  Bluemask,  I  think  there 
was  never  such  a  child  as  thou,  with  so  great  a  love  in 
her  little  heart !  When  I  came  to  thee  with  the  tale 
that  three  nights  ago  I  had  been  expelled  from  my  son's 
house,  thou  didst  believe  !  " 

"  Alas,  yes !  for  why  should  I  think  thee  such  a  base, 
callous  make-believe  ?  I  trusted  thee  !  " 

"  It  was  not  because  of  a  generous  trusting  soul  that 
thou  didst  swallow  so  strange  a  tale,  but  because  of  thine 
inexperience,  because  thou  canst  not  put  two  and  two 
together,  thereby  making  four,  as  I  must  tell  thee.  By 
my  sword  !  thou  art  so  full  of  thoughts  of  love,  reason 
cannot  wedge  one  slight  idea  into  thy  perception.  Be- 
ware, beware,  little  girl !  If  I  could  deceive  thee  with  a 
story  so  unreasonable,  what  may  not  this  Enrique  —  " 

"  I  will  not  hear  thee,  traitor !  Nay,  I  will  pass,  or 
scream  aloud.  Do  not  mention  him  in  comparison  with 
thee  !  It  is  true  I  was  too  trusting  to  find  fault  with  thy 
falsehood.  But  Enrique  is  not  one  to  tempt  credulity. 
One  need  not  be  worldly-wise  to  trust  one  who  cannot 
deceive.  Let  me  pass !  " 

"  Not  so,  little  girl,  not  so,  inexperienced  child.  But 
I  will  go  and  leave  thee.  It  is  time  for  me  to  depart, 

204 


A    WOODEN    GLOVE    FOR    TWO 

when  I  am  so  misjudged.     Thou  wilt  know  better  when 
thou  art  older." 

"  Either  go,  sefior,  or  suffer  me  to  leave  thee." 

"  Nay,  I  am  gone.  But  I  shall  see  Enrique  to-day. 
Come  in  the  morning,  and  I  will  give  thee  true  news." 

"  I  will  not  come,  senor." 

"  Very  good,  little  girl.  But  if  thou  come  I  shall  be 
waiting  for  thee." 

Belle-Isle  was  unhappy  when  he  gained  the  ground. 
It  touched  him  sharply  that  he  had  left  a  pretty  maiden 
behind,  with  an  unkind  thought  for  him.  It  had  by  no 
means  been  his  intention  to  reveal  his  identity.  How 
pleasant  to  have  gone  on  indefinitely  as  the  old  beggar, 
while  she  poured  'forth  her  thoughts  without  reserve ! 
By-and-by  she  would  have  come  to  hold  his  hand,  per- 
chance to  stroke  his  aged  head,  to  lay  her  palm  upon 
his  wrinkled  cheek.  This  would  have  been  pleasant, 
although  she  was  not  his  lady.  Still,  any  pretty  girl  is  a 
delight  —  how  good  is  God  to  put  so  many  of  them  in 
the  world  !  What  sweet  hours  they  might  have  passed 
together  just  before  dawn  !  But  he  had  been  unable  to 
resist  the  excitement  of  declaring  himself.  What  an 
effect  he  had  produced !  Alas,  that  one  cannot  shock 
and  at  the  same  time  please  !  Dearly  as  the  Frenchman 
enjoyed  being  admired,  it  was  still  sweeter  to  startle  his 
audience,  —  no  matter  how  small  that  audience  might 
be, — by  a  swift  and  unforeseen  effect.  Besides,  he 
loved  Rosamunda  in  so  romantic  a  fashion,  that  her 
image  interfered  with  the  pleasure  he  might  have  found 
in  Bluemask,  or  in  Wilhelmina. 

205 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Wilhelmina !  What  had  become  of  her?  Nay,  he 
knew  too  well  how  she  was  immured  in  some  dark  cell 
of  the  Inquisition.  He  must  see  Rosamunda  for  the 
sake  of  his  benefactress  as  well  as  for  his  love.  He  was 
pleased  to  be  in  love  with  Rosamunda,  she  was  so  beau- 
tiful, and  their  union  seemed  so  improbable.  But  he 
felt  that  his  love  could  not  endure  forever  if  he  never 
saw  her  face  again.  He  wished  to  nourish  his  passion, 
and  it  occurred  to  him  with  a  curious  little  shock  of 
surprise  that  it  did  not  feel  quite  so  desperate  as  for- 
merly. The  thought  made  him  impatient  for  the  light, 
when  he  could  wander  before  the  palace  of  Madame  de 
Jasse  and  make  an  heroic  effort  to  see  the  little  soldier. 


206 


Chapter  Fourteen 

GONZALVO'S   REVENGE 

WHEN  the  day  was  well  awake,  Belle-Isle 
left  the  Great  Square,  thinking  his  ap- 
pearance there  could  give  Bluemask  little 
pleasure  in  her  present  mental  attitude. 
The  alms  of  a  stranger  supplied  him  with  breakfast. 
The  young  man  did  not  look  upon  his  food  as  the  gift 
of  charity,  but  as  the  spoils  of  adventure.  At  a  late 
hour  he  saw  Gonzalvo  leave  the  palace  in  which  he  had 
taken  up  his  temporary  abode.  Belle-Isle  sought  to 
escape  his  attention,  and  his  heart  was  light  when  the 
haughty  Spaniard  vanished  from  sight.  Some  time 
after,  Rodrigo  appeared  upon  the  steps.  Several 
Flemings  were  passing,  and  the  soldier  began  to  sing 
a  ribald  song,  insulting  the  patriotic  aspirations  of  the 
Netherlanders.  The  Flemings  hurried  on  with  heavy 
scowls. 

"  Ay,  frown  away,  my  masters !  "  the  soldier  called 
after  them.  "  Glower  and  fume,  for  it  is  all  you  can 
do.  When  we  have  pricked  holes  in  the  hearts  of  these 
Dutchmen,  and  carried  off  their  wives  and  daughters, 
methinks  you  will  purr  more  softly !  " 

207 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  It  is  well  said,"  observed  the  Frenchman  drawing 
near.  "  And  pray,  my  hearty  lad,  canst  not  give  an  old 
man  a  dole  of  thy  fortune?" 

"  I  have  no  fortune,  old  man,"  replied  Rodrigo,  with  a 
rough  kindness.  "  We  merry  fellows  of  Castile  are 
come  hither  to  get  our  fortunes,  and  we  have  brought 
our  bare  backs  to  carry  them  the  better." 

"  Yet  I  pray  thee  stead  an  old  man  who  hath  not  had 
bite  nor  sup  since  the  morning  cock  crowed  derision  at 
his  hunger." 

"  What  wouldst  have,  poor  old  wretch  ?  My  wages 
are  overdue,  and  I  have  no  more  than  my  stomach  can 
put  away.  Seek  some  of  thy  rich  merchants  and  get  of 
their  wealth  before  we  take  them  in  hand,  which  shall 
not  be  long,  God  help  us !  " 

"  Nay,  but  worthy  senior,  there  is  a  hidalgo  within, 
one  Enrique  de  Oviedo  y  Varrez,  whose  handkerchief  I 
hold.  Do,  now,  take  me  to  him,  that  I"  may  deliver  this 
property,  and  so  obtain  a  reward  that  may  nourish  my 
old  bones  a  whit." 

"  For  thy  bones,  old  man,  I  will  go  seek  the  cavalier." 
Rodrigo  entered  the  house.  Belle-Isle  turned  carelessly 
about,  and  his  eyes  encountered  those  of  a  man  watch- 
ing him  from  a  distant  corner  of  the  street.  The  man 
was  Gonzalvo  de  Oviedo.  The  Spaniard  knew  he  had 
been  detected.  Instead  of  advancing,  however,  he  van- 
ished around  the  corner.  His  look  chilled  the  smile  upon 
Belle-Isle's  lips. 

At  last  he  saw  Rodrigo  returning,  and  by  his  side 
walked  the  little  soldier,  stately  and  cold  of  mien.  The 

208 


GONZALVO'S    REVENGE 

young  man  watched  her  as  she  came  down  the  stairs. 
He  wondered  that,  all  the  world  had  not  penetrated  her 
disguise.  How  could  those  soldier's  trappings  hide  the 
fact  that  she  was  a  woman,  magnificent  in  beauty  and 
daring?  He  remembered,  as  she  drew  near,  his  fear, 
lest  his  love  for  her  were  fading.  How  absurd  had  been 
that  thought !  He  felt  that  the  house  of  his  soul  had 
been  tightly  closed  during  slow,  dusty  years,  and  that 
the  sight  of  her  had  opened  every  door  and  window, 
letting  the  summer  breezes  sweep  through  his  inmost 
being. 

Rosamunda  looked  at  him  with  eager  intensity.  She 
did  not  know  what  secret  this  old  man  had  gleaned  from 
rinding  her  handkerchief.  But  she  did  not  suffer  her 
agitation  to  betray  itself.  She  held  out  her  hand  quietly. 
"Where  was  it  found?  "  she  demanded.  Then  to  Rod- 
rigo  who  had  hovered  near,  "  Away  !  "  The  soldier  drew 
back  out  of  hearing  with  a  grin  at  Belle-Isle  over  Rosa- 
munda's  shoulder. 

"  It  was  passing  strange,"  said  Belle-Isle  in  his  cracked 
voice. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  the  Spaniard.  She  led  him 
into  the  house.  Many  were  passing  in  the  great  hall. 
She  drew  him  aside,  to  the  embrasure  of  a  window. 
Some  glanced  curiously  at  the  old  beggar.  At  the  other 
side  of  the  hall  stood  the  Duke  of  Alva  and  the  Count 
of  Egmont. 

"  Come,  come,"  Alva  was  saying  in  a  loud  voice, 
"  give  us  a  sample  of  this  song  thou  sayest  is  so 
popular." 

I4  209 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Nay,  Alva,"  said  Egmont  with  some  confusion,  "  I 
fear  it  would  give  thee  small  comfort." 

"Sayestso?"  cried  Alva  with  a  sneer.  "  Speakest 
thus  of  the  poetry  of  thine  own  land,  Count?  Nay, 
where  is  thy  patriotism?  Sing  us  a  verse,  an  thou 
lovest  me !  " 

Egmont  dropped  his  head  in  much  embarrassment,  but 
he  knew  the  request  so  arrogantly  proffered  was,  in 
reality,  a  command.  Therefore  he  sang,  choosing  the 
last  stanza  of  the  song  as  the  least  offensive.  It  was  the 
song  beginning,  "  Slaet  op  den  tromele  van  dirre  dom 
deyne."  As  every  verse  began  with  "  Long  live  the 
Beggars !  "  the  effect  upon  the  Spanish  soldiers  who 
were  listening  was  just  what  Alva  had  anticipated. 
They  glowered  at  Egmont,  rattled  their  swords,  and 
muttered  among  themselves.  Alva  threw  back  his  head 
and  laughed  loudly.  He  was  thinking  of  the  fate 
already  prepared  for  a  nobleman  too  high-spirited  and 
loyal  to  read  death  in  the  eyes  that  watched  his  every 
motion. 

In  the  meantime  Rosamunda,  taking  advantage  of  the 
noise,  demanded  imperiously  where  her  handkerchief 
had  been  found. 

"  Dost  thou  know,"  inquired  the  old  beggar,  "  where 
a  certain  wooden  glove  hangs  as  a  sign  before  a  glover's 
on  the  Great  Square?  I  mean  a  glove  large  enough  to 
be  used  as  a  house ;  a  glove  wherein  a  maiden  by  the 
name  of  Bluemask  might  even  pass  her  days ;  a  glove 
that  might  shelter  Belle-Isle  by  night.  A  glove  in 
short  —  " 

210 


GONZALVO'S    REVENGE 

"  Oh,  Beile-Isle  !  "  she  whispered  in  a  choking  voice, 
"  I  am  lost !  " 

"  Nay,  sweet  Rosamunda,  never  shall  thy  secret  pass 
my  lips,  —  I  swear  it,  by  Belle-Isle  ?  " 

"  But,  it  is  not  that.  Oh,  why  didst  thou  come  ! 
Look  not  behind  thee,  —  my  father  watches  us.  Such 
eyes  !  my  God,  such  a  look  !  And  I  am  his  daughter  !  " 
Her  face  was  white  and  set,  and  her  eyes  began  to 
burn. 

"  I  will  never  look  behind  me,  lady,  whilst  thou  stand- 
est  in  the  van.  Now  what  sort  of  a  father  is  this,  who 
hath  such  eyes  because  thou  speakest  to  a  poor  old 
man?" 

"  He  sees  something  besides  an  old  man.  But  he 
shall  not  see  me  tremble.  Go  !  "  she  waved  him  away. 

"  But  my  alms,"  said  Belle-Isle,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  True.  It  may  deceive  him."  She  handed  him  a 
gold  ring.  "  Let  no  one  see  this,  for  it  is  too  much,  — 
except  for  the  secret  I  thought  to  buy." 

Belle-Isle  raised  his  shrill  voice.  "Now  God's  ben- 
isons  upon  thy  head,  worthy  senor !  "  He  hobbled 
from  the  house,  not  seeing  Gonzalvo.  He  dared  not 
search  the  room  with  even  a  covert  glance,  lest  the 
father  suspect  his  intention.  When  he  was  without  he 
breathed  more  freely. 

"  Now,"  he  muttered,  "  I  am  done  with  this  spot  of 
the  earth !  Why  did  that  spying  worthy  allow  me  to 
escape?  He  plays  some  deep  play.  He  doth  not 
drink  from  a  shallow  well,  that  Gonzalvo,  —  nay,  he 
draweth  deep  !  I  have  not  wrought  amiss,  howbeit. 

211 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Here  is  this  gold  ring.  Rosamunda  hath  made  most 
solemn  oath  to  come  to  me  whenever  and  wherever  I 
demand  it.  I  need  but  send  this  ring,  and  she  will 
know  I  sent  it.  But  by  my  sword  !  I  forgot  all  about 
Wilhelmina  and  her  friends."  The  young  man  stopped 
as  if  turned  to  stone  by  the  recollection.  "  After  all, 
there  was  scarce  time.  But  I  might  have  crowded  the 
matter  into  her  ear.  As  I  live,  I  could  think  only  of 
Rosamunda,  while  the  wonder  of  her  beauty  filled  every 
nook  of  my  soul  with  rapture." 

"  Ho,  old  man,"  said  a  voice  at  his  ear,  "  why  standest 
thus  agape?"  The  speaker  was  Rodrigo.  "I  have 
followed  to  give  thee  warning.  Knowest  Gonzalvo  de 
Oviedo?  I  saw  him  cast  a  look  upon  thee  wherein  no 
blessing  rode  under  cover  !  " 

"  Thou  art  a  kind  soul,  senor,  I  thank  thee.  But  see, 
does  he  not  stand  upon  the  upper  portico?  Ay,  he 
watches  us,  and,  as  I  live,  I  cannot  tell  which  he  scowls 
at  more  murderously,  —  thee  or  me  !  " 

"The  saints  preserve  me!"  whispered  Rodrigo,  as 
he  caught  the  look  in  Gonzalvo's  black  eyes.  He 
turned  away  from  Belle-Isle  and  sought  an  attitude  of 
indifference.  Belle-Isle  hobbled  around  the  corner,  then 
tucked  his  staff  under  his  arm,  and  made  off  at  a  smart 
pace. 

"  If  only  I  had  thought  of  Wilhelmina !  "  he  reflected. 
"  What  a  morning  this  has  been !  A  meeting  with  my 
dear  lady,  eyes  to  eyes,  and  her  voice  in  my  ear;  a 
suspicious  father  watching  with  eyes  of  hate ;  a  bond 
between  me  and  Rodrigo  !  If  I  had  only  said  to  Rosa- 

212 


GONZALVO'S    REVENGE 

munda,  '  Wilhelmina  Janssen  and  her  family  are  my 
intimate  friends ;  do  what  thou  canst  in  saving  them 
from  the  stake ! '  I  must  adventure  a  letter  to  Rosa- 
munda.  Perchance  she  may  have  some  power  in  saving 
the  unfortunate  girl.  She  is  too  large,  poor  Wilhelmina, 
and  her  one  foot  would  cover  two  prints  of  Rosamunda's 
fairy  slippers.  Then  she  has  such  a  clear,  unabashed 
look  out  of  her  eyes,  as  if  she  thought  herself  a  man 
and  a  comrade !  But  after  all,  there  are  French  hearts 
in  these  Dutch  bodies !  " 

"  Hail,  old  man  !  "  said  a  voice  in  his  ear.  Belle-Isle 
had  reached  another  part  of  Brussels.  He  who  ad- 
dressed him  was  a  man  of  about  fifty,  with  a  beard  run- 
ning under  his  chin  and  up  each  side  of  his  face,  leaving 
bare  the  chin  and  lips.  His  face  was  large  and  red,  his 
form  rotund  and  Dutch,  while  his  person  was  pervaded 
by  an  indefinable  air  of  prosperity  and  solid  integrity. 

"  Hail  to  thee,  worthy  burgher,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  and 
may  it  please  thee,  I  am  a  hungry  man,  your  worship." 

"  It  pleases  me,  for  I  may  give  thee  pleasure,"  said 
the  other.  "  Enter  thou  my  house,  and  thou  shalt 
be  fed." 

He  followed  the  man  into  a  large  house,  and  food  was 
placed  before  him,  while  the  benefactor  and  his  wife 
looked  on.  The  lady,  whose  hair  had  not  yet  begun  to 
turn  gray,  was  clearly  not  a  Fleming.  Belle-Isle  noted 
in  her  face  a  familiar  look.  Had  he  seen  her  in  France? 
Her  form  was  slight  and  her  manner  graceful  and  digni- 
fied. She  bore  the  look  of  sorrow,  which  was  more 
legible  in  her  refined  features  than  in  the  round  face  of 

213 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

her  husband.  They  waited  in  silence  until  the  French- 
man rose  from  the  table.  Then  the  host  said,  "  Come, 
rest  within,  old  man." 

"  Nay,"  said  Belle- Isle,  who  had  been  deeply  per- 
plexed by  the  lady's  face,  and  by  the  burgher's  un- 
wonted kindness,  "  I  must  fare  forth,  kind  gentles. 
Better  for  me  had  I  taken  thy  charity  at  the  door ;  for 
one  smell  of  the  inside  of  such  a  house  makes  me  dis- 
content with  the  barn  wherein  I  pass  my  life." 

"  Hast  thou  no  family,  old  man?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"  Only  a  son,  fair  dame,  who  hath  driven  me  forth 
from  the  home  I  gave  him." 

The  lady  looked  at  her  husband.  "  He  will  aid  us," 
she  said,  "  since  he  can  understand  our  sorrow." 

"  Can  it  be,"  cried  Belle-Isle,  "  that  your  son  has 
proved  ungrateful?  Then  indeed  will  I  do  all  I  can  to 
bring  you  comfort;  for  those  wounded  by  the  same 
sword  are  made  brothers." 

"  Blessings  upon  thee,  old  man !  "  cried  the  lady, 
seizing  his  hand.  "  We  think  thou  canst  aid  us,  indeed. 
Rich  shall  be  thy  reward  in  that  case.  Thy  name  !  " 

Belle-Isle  reflected  a  moment  and  then  answered,  as 
he  had  answered  Gonzalvo,  "  ErBn  Dijk  Dirk." 

"  I  am  Josephine  van  der  Loren ;  and  this  is  my 
husband,  Gerbrand.  Our  only  child  has  been  stolen 
from  us  by  the  foreigners.  We  know  who  have  caused 
her  abduction,  —  a  Spanish  knight,  high  in  favor  with 
Alva;  he  and  his  son  have  robbed  us  of  our  little  Anna. 
Wilt  thou  not  aid  us,  Effin?  Wilt  not  bring  comfort  to 
my  breaking  heart?" 

214 


GONZALVO'S    REVENGE 

"  Trust  me,  lady.  Is  the  knight  a  certain  Gonzalvo 
de  Oviedo  y  Varrez?  And  is  the  son  Enrique?  " 

"  It  is  they !  "  exclaimed  Gerbrand.  "  What  canst 
thou  tell  us,  dear  old  man?  See,  my  wife  faints!" 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Josephine,  who  had  fallen  upon  her 
knees  before  Belle-Isle,  and  who  now  grasped  his  hands. 
"No,  I  live  to  hear  the  truth.  What  has  happened?  " 

"  There  is  little  I  can  tell  thee,  fair  lady.  Do  not 
kneel  to  the  old  beggar.  I  heard  those  two  speaking  in 
whispers,  and  I  divined  they  had  kidnapped  some 
maiden.  I  knew  not  whom.  Thy  words  have  supplied 
the  break  in  the  history.  Yes,  it  is  Gonzalvo,  in  truth." 

"  And  where  have  they  taken  her,  good  Effin?  What 
have  they  done  with  her?  —  my  God  !  " 

"  Fear  nothing.  Enrique  hath  no  thought  that  stops 
a  pace  short  of  marriage.  They  delay  to  gain  her 
consent." 

"  But  where  have  they  imprisoned  her?" 

"  That  I  did  not  learn.  For  as  I  listened,  being  of  a 
mighty  curious  disposition,  with  a  taste  for  such  quaint 
histories,  Gonzalvo  faced  about  and  discovered  me,  and 
knew  I  had  thirsty  ears.  So  I  was  cast  out  of  the  place 
without  a  '  By  God's  leave,  old  man  !  ' ' 

"  Alas  !  "  she  cried. 

"  Yet  this  is  better  than  we  hoped,"  said  Gerbrand. 
"  I  saw  thee  loitering  before  that  accursed  nest  of  Span- 
iards ;  I  thought  to  employ  thee  to  steal  this  secret  from 
Gonzalvo." 

"  How  knowest  thou  of  my  honesty,  good  sir?  " 

"  Is  not  poverty  a  badge  of  honesty !  " 

215 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Effin,  good  Effin,"  said  the  lady,  "  wilt  not  go  thither 
and  find  out  where  they  have  dragged  our  little  darling, 
our  one  ewe  lamb?  Our  wealth  shall  be  thine,  if  thou 
canst  bring  back  our  stolen  treasure.  She  had  such  a 
way,  Effin,  of  throwing  her  arm  gayly  about  my  neck, 
and  calling  me  her  sweetheart." 

"  Ay,"  said  Gerbrand  gloomily,  "  but  that  was  before 
she  knew  there  was  a  difference  between  men  and 
women." 

"  Yet,"  said  the  mother  eagerly,  "  she  would  never 
have  deserted  us  willingly.  Could  she  have  left  her 
father  and  mother  to  die  of  broken  hearts,  for  an  enemy 
to  her  country?  Is  this  any  less  her  country  because  I 
am  a  Frenchwoman  ?  " 

"Josephine,  what  is  a  maiden's  country,  in  comparison 
with  her  first  love?  Didst  leave  thy  France  to  be  my 
wife?" 

"  Ay,  but  I  did  not  desert  my  parents.  But  what  do 
we  say?  How  can  we  even  hint  at  our  little  Anna's 
wantonly  crushing  all  hope  out  of  our  lives?  Effin  says 
she  was  stolen,  and  we  knew  it  before  he  spoke.  Our 
little  girl!  How  she  used  to  race  through  the  house, 
and  sing  and  laugh  because  she  was  young !  " 

"  Ay,"  said  Gerbrand,  "  but  all  that  came  to  an  end 
when  she  met  the  Spaniard.  There  was  no  laughing  and 
no  racing  after  that ! " 

A  servant  appeared  at  the  door  and  announced  Gon- 
zalvo  de  Oviedo  y  Varrez.  Belle-Isle  looked  quickly  at 
Josephine.  "  If  he  find  me  here,"  he  whispered,  "  I  am 
lost,  and  so  is  thy  hope  !  " 

216 


GONZALVO'S    REVENGE 

"  Quick  !  "  answered  the  lady.  "  Let  us  within  this 
closet.  Oh,  I  cannot  look  into  his  face !  Oh,  my  hus- 
band, be  careful,  be  calm,  be  cunning!  " 

They  heard  the  heavy  tread  of  the  Spaniard,  who, 
impatient  of  delay,  had  followed  the  servant.  Josephine 
had  scarcely  closed  the  closet-door  upon  herself  and  the 
beggar,  when  Gonzalvo  entered  the  room.  He  found 
Gerbrand  van  der  Loren  standing  solemnly  by  the  win- 
dow, nervously  feeling  his  fringe  of  whisker.  The  new 
comer  gave  a  swift  glance  toward  the  table,  from  which 
the  servants  had  already  removed  the  dishes.  He  looked 
rapidly  about  the  room,  then  faced  the  Fleming  coldly. 

"  So  we  are  alone,  it  seems,"  he  said  suspiciously. 

"  Ay,  we  are  alone,  as  it  pleases  thee  to  observe,"  said 
Gerbrand.  "  Rest  content,  if  contentment  may  be 
breathed  in  this  unhappy  home." 

"  Gerbrand  van  der  Loren,"  said  Gonzalvo,  not  heed- 
ing him  and  speaking  bluntly,  even  savagely,  "  that  girl 
of  thine  has  run  off  to  my  son,  which  puts  me  in  a  deli- 
cate position,  seeing  that  thou  hast  for  many  years  been 
my  enemy.  Here  she  comes  in  the  dead  of  night,  cry- 
ing to  my  son  to  take  her  in,  ere  she  die  of  love  !  I  only 
learned  the  thing  this  day,  and  come  to  thee  to  clear 
myself  of  thy  suspicions." 

"  Indeed,  my  lord,"  said  Gerbrand  in  a  restrained 
voice,  "  I  know  full  well  she  was  abducted,  and  can  only 
wonder  at  thy  motive  in  deceiving  me." 

The  Spaniard's  face  became  dark  with  passion,  but  he 
bit  his  lip.  "  I  tell  thee  the  truth,  Gerbrand.  And  what 
is  more,  I  come  to  make  what  restitution  I  may.  If  thou 

217 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

wilt  take  back  the  girl,  thou  shalt  have  her  this  very 
night." 

"  Is  it  true,  Gonzalvo  ?  What !  thou  hast  a  father's 
heart,  after  all?  Shall  I  indeed  have  my  Anna  safe?" 

"  Thou  shalt  have  her —  if  thou  wilt  receive  her  as  she 
is,  Gerbrand." 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  my  little  Anna !  " 

"  Very  well.  Then  thou  shalt  have  her,  though  my 
son  tear  his  hair  in  rage  at  our  spoiling  his  pretty  pleas- 
ure. But  methinks  he  has  grown  somewhat  aweary  of 
her  devotion.  It  may  be  he  will  rejoice  to  have  her 
taken  away,  since  he  hath  not  the  heart  to  drive  her  into 
the  street" 

"  I  ask  no  more,  senor,  than  that  he  open  the  door  of 
her  cage  and  suffer  her  to  escape." 

Gonzalvo  laughed  cruelly.  "  Thou  blind  fool !  "  he 
cried  out,  as  much  in  anger,  it  appeared  to  Belle-Isle,  as 
in  derision.  "  Dost  thou  not  know,  Van  der  Loren,  that 
that  girl  of  thine  is  in  love  with  my  Enrique?" 

"  I  know,  senor,  that  she  is  but  a  mere  child,  whose 
fancy  has  been  dazzled  by  the  brilliancy  of  Alva's  court. 
But  whatever  her  fancy,  why  would  she  throw  aside  her 
father  and  mother  as  if  we  were  old  garments  which 
had  cherished  her  in  the  cold,  but  for  which  she  thinks 
to  have  no  need,  having  entered  into  the  warmth  of  love? 
Nay,  nay,  Gonzalvo,  thou  art  come  to  rack  me  with 
suspicions  of  hell,  which  shall  not  enter  my  breast, 
however  keen  thy  darts." 

"  In  a  word,  then,"  said  Gonzalvo  with  a  sneer,  "  thou 
thinkest  my  son  and  I  have  carried  her  off  by  force?  " 

218 


GONZALVO'S    REVENGE 

"  I  know  this  to  be  the  truth,  senor.  But  thou  hast 
given  me  a  hope,  for  thy  promise  is  passed,  that  to-night 
I  shall  have  back  my  child." 

"  If  thou  wilt  take  her,"  interposed  Gonzalvo. 

"  I  will  take  her,"  returned  Gerbrand  coldly,  that  he 
might  hide  his  passion. 

Gonzalvo  laughed.  "  Perchance  thou  wonderest  why  I 
should  trouble  myself  to  restore  to  thee  thy  ruined  girl. 
But  I  have  in  memory  thy  first  child,  also  a  girl,  and  thy 
unjust  suspicion  that  it  was  I  who  stole  her  from  thee  in 
her  infancy." 

"  Senor,  I  have  never  changed  that  suspicion,"  said 
Gerbrand,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  Yet  I  knew  nothing  of  that  infant's  fate,  old  man. 
Thou  hast  been  most  unfortunate,  by  St.  James  of  Com- 
postella !  The  first  babe  is  snatched  from  its  parents, 
the  second  runs  away  when  old  enough !  It  seems 
here  was  an  unlucky  marriage  when  Gerbrand  van 
der  Loren  and  Josephine  de  Montresor  entwined  their 
flags  over  one  hearth !  Perhaps  if  that  lady  of  France 
had  thought  better  of  her  opportunity,  Gonzalvo  de 
Oviedo  y  Varrez  would  not  have  been  the  man  he  is 
to-day." 

"  Senor,"  said  Gerbrand,  "  where  shall  I  find  my 
daughter,  to-night?" 

"  At  ten  I  will  come  and  conduct  thee  to  her.  I  shall 
prove  to  thee  beyond  the  hope  of  doubting  that  this 
girl,  throwing  all  sense  of  honor  to  the  winds,  flew  to  my 
son  of  her  own  choice :  that  she  abides  with  him  will- 
ingly ;  that  only  by  force  will  she  suffer  herself  to  be  torn 

219 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

from  his  arms.     Ay,  Van  der  Loren,  I  speak  the  truth 
upon  my  sacred  honor  !  " 

From  the  closet  came  the  sound  of  shrill  laughter. 
The  door  was  thrown  open,  and  Josephine  van  der 
Loren  entered  the  room,  still  laughing  hysterically. 
Belle-Isle  was  thrilled  by  the  sound  of  hollow  mirth. 
He  chanced  to  stand  in  the  end  of  the  closet  next  the 
Spaniard,  hence  his  person  was  hidden,  although  the 
door  stood  open. 

"  So  we  were  not  alone,  after  all,"  said  Gonzalvo,  star- 
ing at  the  lady  insolently. 

Josephine  advanced  toward  him  still  laughing.  "  Thy 
honor !  "  she  cried.  "  That  was  very  good,  senor.  Pray 
proceed,  senor,  —  thy  sacred  honor !  " 

"  This  is  a  mad  woman !  "  said  Gonzalvo  between  his 
teeth,  while  the  furious  blood  dyed  his  bronze  cheeks. 
"  Take  her  away,  Gerbrand,  for  though  she  is  a  woman 
—  And  this  is  pretty  Josephine  de  Montresor !  "  he 
continued,  his  tone  changing  from  anger  to  scorn. 
"  This  is  the  pretty  girl  I  kissed  in  Paris  on  that 
night  of  the  grand  f£te.  Poor  Josephine,  —  quite 
mad!" 

"Josephine,"  said  Gerbrand  warningly,  "remember 
our  only  hope  hangs  upon  his  favor." 

"  Thou  canst  stand  there,"  cried  the  lady,  turning 
upon  her  husband  with  burning  eyes,  "  and  hear  him 
traduce  our  only  child.  Thou  canst  remember  that  it 
was  he  who  stole  our  babe  from  us,  twenty  years  ago. 
Thou  canst  listen  while  he  vilifies  our  sweet  Anna,  help- 
less in  his  power.  Thou  canst  look  gravely  upon  the 

220 


GONZALVO'S    REVENGE 

floor  when  he  speaks  of  his  honor.  But  it  makes  me 
laugh !  " 

"Josephine,  Josephine!"  her  husband  appealed. 
"  If  he  is  angered,  how  shall  we  ever  find  our  little 
one?  " 

"  He  says  she  left  of  her  free  will,"  continued  the 
mother  wildly,  advancing  toward  Gonzalvo.  "  He  calls 
her  a  ruined  girl,  and  says  nothing  but  force  can  tear 
her  from  the  arms  of  that  devil,  his  son ;  and  God  does 
not  strike  him  to  the  earth.  But  God  knows  the  mother 
is  here  to  defend  the  little  girl,  and  to  maintain  her  honor. 
But  why  do  I  speak  of  him?  What  cares  he  for  words 
of  truth?  Nay,  this  is  the  mother's  word  he  can  under- 
stand !  "  As  she  spoke,  her  clenched  fist  smote  him 
upon  the  mouth. 

"  God's  wounds  !  "  cried  Gonzalvo,  grasping  her  arm, 
while  the  blood  oozed  from  his  lip.  Gerbrand  started 
forward. 

"  Release  her  arm  !  "  he  cried  hoarsely,  feeling  for  the 
sword  that  was  not  there. 

"  Thus,  thus  the  mother  answers  that  false  mouth !  " 
cried  Josephine,  struggling  madly,  that  she  might  strike 
him  again. 

Gonzalvo  held  both  her  wrists,  and  stared  into  her 
face  with  bloodshot  eyes,  while  he  caught  his  breath. 
Suddenly  he  flung  her  from  him  into  the  arms  of  the 
approaching  husband.  His  thin  lips  were  tightened  at 
the  corners,  and  drawn  back  from  the  gleaming  teeth. 

"  You  have  ruined  all,"  Gerbrand  panted  to  his  wife, 
as  she  clung  to  him,  quivering. 

221 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

For  a  while  the  silence  in  the  room  was  terrible. 
Belle-Isle,  whose  hand  convulsively  grasped  his  beggar's 
staff,  inclined  his  ear  that  he  might  not  lose  a  word. 
His  blood  danced  with  delirious  excitement.  Would  it 
be  necessary  for  him  to  spring  forth  without  his  sword, 
to  oppose  the  father  of  Rosamunda? 

Gonzalvo  was  the  next  to  speak.  His  voice  still 
shook  with  fury,  but  the  master's  iron  will  reduced  it 
almost  to  a  whisper.  "  At  ten  to-night,  Van  der  Loren," 
he  said,  "  come  to  the  Great  Square.  I  will  be  waiting 
to  take  thee  to  thy  daughter." 

"  I  shall  be  there,"  said  Gerbrand  eagerly. 

The  Spaniard  strode  to  the  door,  then  added,  "  After 
thou  hast  seen  her — I  know  thee,  Van  der  Loren  — 
thou  wilt  never  wish  to  see  her  again.  For  this  blow 
upon  my  lips,  let  that  be  my  satisfaction."  With  these 
words  he  left  them. 

Belle-Isle  hobbled  into  the  room. 

"  Have  no  fear,"  said  the  Frenchman.  "  I  know  thy 
child  is  as  pure  as  when  last  she  stood  in  this  room. 
Have  I  not  overheard  father  and  son?  Do  I  not  know 
their  plots?  I  go  now  to  watch  this  Gonzalvo,  this 
Enrique.  Trust  the  old  beggar,  he  is  your  friend,  and 
you  might  have  a  worse  !  " 

They  almost  overpowered  him  with  their  gratitude. 
Money  was  pressed  into  his  reluctant  hands,  —  he  cared 
nothing  for  money  when  he  had  no  wants  to  supply. 
Belle-Isle  departed,  feeling  that  Bluemask  was  safe 
enough  during  the  day. 

In  the  afternoon  as  the  young  man  hobbled  along  a 
222 


GONZALVO'S    REVENGE 

seldom  used  passway,  he  suddenly  came  upon  Rodrigo. 
Here  was  his  opportunity  to  do  what  he  could  for  Wil- 
helmina.  "  Stay,  kind  warrior,"  he  said  in  his  falsetto, 
"  Wilt  not  carry  a  note  from  the  old  beggar  to  Senor 
Enrique  de  Oviedo?  " 

"  A  note  !  "  exclaimed  Rodrigo  with  a  great  oath  born 
of  his  good  humor.  "  Do  beggars  of  Brussels  send 
notes  to  grandees?  " 

"Ay,  an  they  find  so  good  a  messenger!  Here  is 
money,  for  didst  not  obtain  money  for  me  this  morning, 
in  leading  me  to  the  Spaniard?  " 

"  I  will  not  take  thy  money,  old  man.  But  where  is 
this  note?  " 

"  It  is  in  my  brain,  good  sefior,  but  it  shall  stream 
through  my  fingers  upon  paper." 

"  Then  write,  old  man.  Ah !  the  look  his  father  cast 
upon  thee  would  make  a  fish  in  any  brook  think  himself 
stranded  upon  dry  land  !  " 

"Is  it  so?"  said  Belle-Isle,  seating  himself  upon  a 
step,  and  drawing  a  small  brush,  a  paint-box,  and  a  sheet 
of  paper  from  his  pocket.  "Nay,  he  looked  upon  thee 
as  if  he  thought  thee  a  mistake  God  made  whilst  trying 
to  fashion  a  man." 

"Did  he  look  at  me  so,  indeed?"  said  Rodrigo  un- 
easily. "  Now,  by  our  Lady  of  Loretto  !  methought  I, 
also,  spied  this  uneasy  glimmer  in  his  eyes." 

Belle-Isle  wrote,  while  Rodrigo  read  over  his 
shoulder: 

"  To  Senor  Enrique  de  Oviedo  y  Varrez,  and  I  make 
bold  to  crave  my  lord's  grace  to  have  compassion  iipon  one 

223 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Hendrik  Janssen  and  his  family,  who  be  imprisoned  by 
the  Inquisition,  for  very  pity  to  the  poor  old  beggar  who  re- 
stored to  thee  thy  handkerchief.  For  they  be  no  accursed 
heretics,  btit  blessed  children  of  our  Holy  Church  and  loyal 
to  the  King." 

Rodrigo  laughed.  "  Thinkest  thou,  poor  old  fool, 
that  the  Inquisition  lets  its  mice  go  when  they  are 
between  its  claws?" 

"  Wilt  take  my  note,  good  Rodrigo?  " 

"Well,  well,  why  not?  For  after  this  senor  recovered 
his  handkerchief,  he  gave  me  much  money.  Mayhap 
he  will  reward  me  for  this  note.  Farewell,  old  comrade ; 
but  dost  indeed  think  Gonzalvo  looked  so  at  me?  " 

"  Think  no  more  on  it,  Rodrigo,  only  carry  the  note. 
Everything  ends  well  in  this  world,  Rodrigo ;  I  have 
always  found  it  so.  After  a  hungry  day  comes  a  full 
stomach;  after  heart's  pining,  a  pair  of  pretty  arms; 
after  much  hating,  the  dagger.  All  ends  well,  —  if  not 
to  thee,  then  to  another." 

When  it  grew  dark,  Belle-Isle  resolved  to  be  present, 
if  possible,  when  Gonzalvo  took  Gerbrand  to  his  daugh- 
ter. It  was  a  delicious  September  night.  Seeking  out- 
of-the-way  streets,  the  young  man  sought  the  river  and 
bathed,  resolved  to  meet  the  night's  adventure  in  his 
crimson  doublet  and  flesh-colored  hose.  The  moon 
would  not  rise  till  midnight,  and  as  it  grew  toward  the 
appointed  hour,  the  night  was  intensely  dark. 

As  he  walked  rapidly  through  a  narrow  street,  not  far 
from  the  spot  where  he  had  written  his  note  to  Rosa- 
munda,  he  stumbled  over  an  object  that  lay  across  the 

224 


GONZALVO'S    REVENGE 

road.  His  hands,  in  seeking  to  break  his  fall,  touched 
something  white  and  cold.  It  was  a  man's  hand.  Belle- 
Isle  felt  the  body  lightly.  Presently  he  discovered  the 
hilt  of  a  dagger,  resting  in  the  back  of  the  corpse. 
Rodrigo  had  been  stabbed  from  behind.  Belle-Isle 
withdrew  the  weapon,  and  wiped  it  upon  the  soldier's 
cloak.  "  Poor  Rodrigo  !  "  he  murmured,  "  he  will  never 
swear  another  oath,  the  kind  old  villain  !  I  wonder  if 
he  delivered  my  note,  or  if  Gonzalvo  found  it  upon  him. 
Poor  Rodrigo  !  Well,  everything  ends  well  —  if  not  for 
us,  then  for  our  enemies  !  " 


225 


Chapter  Fifteen 

ROSAMUNDA   PLAYS   THE  LOVER 

IT  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  the  Frenchman,  with 
cautious  step,  gained  the  Great  Square  of  Brussels 
In  the  shadow  of  the  buildings  it  was  impossible 
to  determine  if  any  one  loitered  upon  the  streets, 
and  the  young  man  ascended   nimbly,  secure  from  de- 
tection.    Feeling  his  way  with  practised  feet  along  the 
stone  ledge,  he  entered  his  queer  home,  and  hurriedly 
divested  himself  of  his  rags.     Presently  he  was  attired 
as  he  had  been  the    night    of   Egmont's   masquerade, 
even  to    the  sword    at    his    side.      Then    he    emerged 
from    the    huge    sign    and,    having    gained    the    ledge, 
paused    undecided.      The  silence  was  broken    by    the 
peal  of  bells;  it  was  the  hour  of  the  appointment. 

As  he  slipped  noiselessly  to  the  ground,  he  heard  a 
man's  approaching  footsteps.  The  footsteps  paused 
not  far  from  him.  Then  a  voice  spoke,  "  I  am  here  !  " 
It  was  the  voice  of  Gerbrand  van  der  Loren. 

There  was  no  answer.  Belle-Isle  squeezed  his  form 
against  the  wall  and  waited.  He  heard  Gerbrand 
breathing.  He  heard  him  mutter,  "  He  will  not  come  !  " 
Then  he  raised  his  voice  and  said  in  a  sharper  tone,  "  I 
am  here !  " 

226 


ROSAMUNDA    PLAYS    THE    LOVER 

"  Hush,  fool !  "  said  another  voice,  close  at  hand. 
"  Follow  and  make  no  sound,  else  she  will  elude  us." 

"  She?" 

"  Ay,  —  thy  daughter ;   she  is  near." 

Gonzalvo  led  Gerbrand  up  the  flight  of  stairs  so 
familiar  to  the  young  man ;  he  followed  with  light  feet. 

"  A  misstep  will  be  thy  ruin,"  Gonzalvo  said  in  a  harsh 
undertone.  "  Steady  thyself  with  one  hand  against  the 
wall.  Feel  the  way  with  thy  feet." 

"  I  follow,  though  perchance  into  a  deadly  trap,"  said 
Gerbrand. 

"  Fool !  "  returned  the  Spaniard,  "  did  I  call  thee  hither 
to  put  thee  into  a  trap,  when  I  might  have  brought  the 
trap  to  thee?  Thou  art  a  gallant  climber,  Van  der  Loren, 
to  walk  so  nimbly  in  the  dark  to  witness  thy  daughter's 
dishonor !  " 

"  God  preserve  me  until  I  hold  her  in  my  arms !  " 
ejaculated  the  father. 

Gonzalvo  laughed  softly.  "  Here  is  a  window,  old 
heretic,"  he  said.  "  We  enter  here.  No  further  words  !  " 

Belle-Isle  knew  they  had  stopped  before  the  linen- 
window  where  he  had  found  Rosamunda's  handkerchief. 
He  heard  the  hinges  creak ;  they  left  the  window  open, 
and  he  came  after  them  without  noise.  His  feet  were 
upon  a  bare  floor.  He  crept  forward  cautiously,  fearing 
lest  he  stumble  over  an  object  in  the  darkness,  and  thus 
betray  his  presence.  His  hand  was  ever  upon  his  sword, 
lest  it  give  forth  a  warning.  Gonzalvo  and  Gerbrand 
made  scarcely  any  sound,  but  his  intent  ears  enabled 
him  to  follow  their  unseen  forms.  Voices  came  to  him, 

227 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

and  caused  his  heart  to  leap.  He  turned  a  corner  in  a 
long  and  narrow  hallway,  and  a  streak  of  light  met  his 
gaze  —  a  sharp  white  line,  where  a  door  failed  to  touch 
the  floor.  Half  way  up  a  round  white  eye  -looked  at 
him  unwinkingly,  where  the  light  streamed  through  a 
large  keyhole.  The  voices  on  the  other  side  of  the  door 
appeared  careless  of  restraint. 

Gonzalvo  whispered  to  Gerbrand,  "  Listen  first;  look 
afterwards." 

Belle-Isle  heard  an  impatient  motion,  and  then  the 
hoarse  whisper  of  the  Fleming,  "  Release  my  arm !  " 

"Not  now;  wait,"  replied  Gonzalvo,  under  his  breath. 
"  Listen,  listen,  listen,  old  fool ;  then  thou  shalt  look  thy 
fill ! " 

Belle-Isle  was  startled  by  a  sudden  sound  near  his 
feet,  the  sound  of  a  falling  object. 

"  Oh,  Enrique !  "  cried  a  girl's  voice  from  within, 
"what  was  that  in  the  hall?  We  are  discovered." 

"  No,  Anna,"  said  the  voice  of  the  little  soldier, 
"  have  no  fear,  it  is  only  an  apple  I  brought  thee, 
which  I  set  upon  a  shelf  as  I  entered.  It  has  rolled 
to  the  floor.  I  will  get  it  for  thee.  Abide  here." 

Belle-Isle,  who  had  fled  to  the  turning-point  in  the 
hall,  peeped  around  the  corner,  and  saw  the  door 
half-opened.  Rosamunda  in  her  soldier's  disguise 
stepped  out  of  the  lighted  room  and  walked  toward 
Gonzalvo,  who  stood  behind  the  door  clutching  Ger- 
brand's  arm.  Gonzalvo  extended  his  arm,  and  Rosa- 
munda's  hand  met  his.  Then  the  little  soldier  returned 
to  the  room,  closing  the  door.  The  Frenchman  crept 

228 


ROSAMUNDA    PLAYS    THE    LOVER 

closer,  understanding  that  the  sudden  sound  had  been 
a  signal  agreed  upon  to  warn  Rosamunda  of  her  father's 
presence. 

"  Here  is  the  apple,  sweet,"  said  Rosamunda  in  a 
clear,  distinct  voice.  "  I  found  it  where  it  had  fallen." 

"  But  why  did  it  fall,  Enrique?  "  asked  Bluemask,  with 
vague  alarm  still  trembling  in  her  voice. 

"  My  step  shook  it  from  its  place,  Anna.  Think  no 
more  of  that.  Who  could  find  us  here?  The  glover 
knows  he  would  meet  death  the  instant  he  betrayed  us. 
Besides,  it  is  to  his  interest  to  keep  thy  living  here  a 
secret,  for  he  has  now  a  steady  income  from  a  disused 
room.  Every  day  thou  art  hidden  away  in  thy  snug 
retreat,  and  this  room  is  open  to  whoever  will  enter. 
And  every  night  do  I  not  come  to  thee?" 

"  Not  every  night,  dear  Enrique.  Ah,  thou  wast  cruel 
last  night !  At  first  I  thought,  '  He  will  come  early 
to-night,  and  we  will  sit  through  the  golden  hours  tell- 
ing each  other's  fortunes  by  the  light  of  love  ! '  But  thou 
earnest  not,  Enrique,  and  there  were  some  hours  lost 
that  might  have  been  such  precious  gains !  And  then  I 
said,  '  Still  he  will  come,  he  will  not  fail  me ;  we  cannot 
begin  at  the  first  of  our  story,  and  slowly  bring  it  for- 
ward to  the  breathless  climax ;  we  must  begin  with  the 
climax  itself,  the  "  /  love  thee,  I  adore  thee.  Wilt  thou 
be  mine?"  But,  oh,  Enrique,  it  drew  near  the  dawn! 
And  then  I  said,  '  He  will  come  for  one  brief  moment, 
just  that  a  day  may  not  perish ;  there  will  be  no  time 
for  words ;  kisses  must  buy  back  the  wasted  hours ! ' 
And  still  thou  earnest  not.  And  so  the  night  was 

229 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

gone,  Enrique,    a    night   without   one   glimpse    of  thy 
face !  " 

"  Poor  little  girl !  "  said  Rosamunda.  "  But  now  we 
have  a  long,  long  night  before  us.  Turn  not  thy  face 
away,  darling.  I  must  love  thee  for  two  nights.  What 
joy  I  should  have  missed,  hadst  thou  not  come  to  me 
of  thine  own  free  sweet  choice,  to  be  mine  forever !  " 

"Yes,  Enrique,  what  happiness  might  have  never 
been  !  Oh,  is  it  wrong  to  be  so  happy?  But  thou  art 
my  life,  and  without  thee  I  would  desire  the  grave. 
How  strange  that  I  may  thus  pass  long  hours  with  thee 
and  never  feel  a  fear !  Enrique,  I  think  there  is  no 
other  man  like  thee,  so  true  and  noble.  There  is  that 
in  thee  that  makes  me  trust  thee  more  than  I  trust 
myself." 

"  Sweet  Anna !     Well  hast  thou  proved  thy  trust !  " 

"Yes,  Enrique,  I  have  left  all  for  thee,  a  dear  father, 
a  loving  mother,  a  happy  home.  And  I  was  glad  to 
slip  from  them  in  the  night  and  come  to  thee,  for  thus 
I  told  thee  in  a  language  thou  couldst  never  doubt,  that 
I  was  wholly  thine  !  " 

"  Precious  little  one  !     And  so  wast  glad  to  come?  " 

"  Glad?  My  heart  leaped  and  thrilled,  as  if  it  were  a 
burst  of  music,  floating  from  the  gates  of  Paradise.  I 
know  they  grieve  for  me,  my  father,  my  mother.  But  I 
give  this  sorrow  for  thy  priceless  devotion.  I  pay  all  that 
I  have,  my  heart  and  their  grief.  Now  love  me,  Enrique, 
for  what  I  have  given  up,  and  for  my  love  of  thee." 

"  Some  day,  Anna,  thou  shalt  be  my  wife,"  said  the 
little  soldier. 

230 


ROSAMUNDA    PLAYS    THE    LOVER 

"  Do  I  not  know  that,  Enrique?  I  never  doubt  thee, 
and  if  I  become  impatient,  I  blame  myself.  I  tell  my- 
self love  is  enough  to-day ;  to-morrow,  there  will  be  a 
marriage.  My  poor  father !  When  he  forced  me  to 
go  home  that  night  of  the  masquerade,  —  '  Thou  shalt 
never  see  this  Spaniard  again,'  he  said.  The  next  morn- 
ing he  would  have  carried  me,  a  heartbroken  prisoner, 
to  France.  I  slipped  from  the  house  at  midnight,  and 
came  to  thy  palace.  Have  I  told  thee,  sweetheart,  how 
I  many  times  threw  before  the  stone  struck  thy  window  ? 
I  shall  never  forget  thy  face  when  thou  sawest  me  stand- 
ing all  alone  in  the  street.  Enrique,  Enrique  !  kiss  me 
as  thou  didst  that  night,  when  we  said  farewell.  And 
now  I  will  kiss  thee.  Do  not  breathe,  else  thou  wilt 
blow  away  my  courage.  Oh,  Enrique,  when  thou  art 
gone  from  me  —  But  we  have  such  nectar  hours  to 
drink,  before  the  garish  sun  robs  us  of  what  is  ours,  — 
I  mean  the  little  secret  that  is  between  us  two,  all  hidden 
from  the  world,  —  our  golden  love  !  " 

"  God's  fury !  "  cried  Gerbrand,  breaking  from  the 
grasp  of  the  Spaniard,  and  rushing  upon  the  door.  He 
flung  it  open  and  burst  into  the  room,  closely  followed 
by  Gonzalvo.  The  little  soldier  sat  upon  a  couch  with 
Anna's  head  resting  upon  the  embroidered  bosom  of  the 
uniform.  Their  arms  were  about  each  other.  At  the 
sudden  tumult  they  started  apart.  Rosamunda  leaped 
to  her  feet  and  drew  her  sword.  Anna  gave  a  wild 
scream.  "  Father  !  "  she  cried,  with  a  white  face.  "  My 
father !  " 

Gerbrand  stood  staring  at  them,  a  man  frenzied  by 

231 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

suspicion,  shame,  and  agony.  One  glance  fell  upon  the 
terror-stricken  face  of  his  daughter.  Then  he  turned 
upon  the  other,  his  face  purple  with  passion. 

Anna  sank  upon  her  knees  with  clasped  hands. 
"  Father !  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  thee,"  gasped  Gerbrand, 
not  looking  down.  He  sprang  toward  Rosamunda.  He 
was  unarmed,  as  became  his  class,  but  he  rushed  for- 
ward careless  of  the  sword  with  which  Rosamunda 
defended  her  person.  Involuntarily  she  shrank  back 
before  the  onslaught,  until  she  stood  in  a  corner  of  the 
room.  Gerbrand  rushed  toward  the  couch,  and  lifted  it 
from  the  floor  apparently  without  exertion. 

"  Father,  father,"  screamed  Anna  frantically,  "  do  not 
kill  him  !  "  She  struggled  up  from  her  knees. 

These  changes  in  the  scene  had  taken  place  with  such 
rapidity  that  Gonzalvo  was  unable  to  arrest  the  infuriated 
father.  Now,  however,  he  brushed  Anna  aside,  and 
sprang  between  Gerbrand  and  Rosamunda.  He  turned 
upon  the  Fleming  with  flashing  sword.  He  crouched 
forward  with  extended  blade,  to  run  his  enemy  through 
the  heart.  The  next  instant  Gerbrand  lifted  the  couch 
aloft,  as  if  its  weight  had  been  as  nothing,  and  hurled 
it  at  the  Spaniard.  With  an  oath,  the  latter  recoiled 
and  swerved  to  one  side,  but  a  corner  of  the  couch 
struck  him  upon  the  head,  and  he  fell  to  the  floor  as 
if  dead. 

With  a  furious  and  inarticulate  cry,  Gerbrand  snatched 
up  the  sword  that  had  fallen  from  Gonzalvo's  hand.  At 
the  same  time  Anna  fled  to  Rosamunda,  and  threw  her 

232 


arms  about  the  impassive  form.  Rosamunda's  face  was 
white,  and  the  sword  she  held  quivered  in  her  hand. 

"Kill  us  both,  father,"  cried  Anna.  "The  blow  that 
reaches  Enrique  must  find  its  way  through  my  body !  " 

Belle-Isle,  who  had  entered  the  room  unobserved,  ran 
past  Gerbrand,  and  took  his  place  beside  Rosamunda. 
There  was  a  brief  period  of  silence  in  the  room,  while 
Gerbrand,  apparently  unconscious  of  Belle-Isle's  pres- 
ence, glared  at  his  daughter  as  she  stood  with  her  back 
to  him,  her  face  pressed  to  Rosamunda's  face,  —  for 
they  were  of  the  same  height. 

Then  Gerbrand  threw  Gonzalvo's  sword  upon  the 
floor,  and  without  a  word  turned  and  left  the  room. 
They  heard  him  feeling  his  way  up  the  hall ;  they  knew 
when  he  climbed  out  of  the  window.  When  he  was 
gone,  the  silence  was  unbroken.  Belle-Isle  stood  with 
drawn  sword,  staring  upon  the  motionless  form  of  Gon- 
zalvo.  Rosamunda  had  turned  her  head  to  regard  the 
young  man,  whose  appearance  had  startled  her  out  of 
her  fear  of  the  infuriated  Fleming.  The  tension  of  the 
moment  was  broken  by  a  low  cry  from  Anna,  as  she 
slipped  from  the  motionless  form  of  the  little  soldier  to 
the  floor  in  a  swoon. 


233 


Chapter  Sixteen 

BELLE-ISLE'S  FAREWELL    TO  ROSAMUND  A 

BELLE-ISLE  turned   his   eyes    from  the  still 
form  of  Gonzalvo,  and  encountered  the  gaze 
of  Rosamunda.     He  was  white  and  stern  as 
he   looked  into  her  face.     He  bent  toward 
her  slightly  and  said  in  a  low  voice : 
"  Rosamunda,  I  hate  thee  !  " 

She  looked  at  him  without  replying,  but  her  face 
changed,  as  though  moved  by  sudden  pain. 

"  I  hate  thee  for  thy  part  in  this  tragedy,"  he  said, 
and  he  could  not  keep  his  voice  steady,  for  its  tones 
quivered  under  the  touch  of  strong  emotions. 

"  Is  he  dead  ? "  asked  Rosamunda,  pointing  her 
sword  towards  her  father. 

"No,  that  sort  lives,"  replied  the  Frenchman. 
"Then   depart   instantly,    before    he    recovers,"    she 
said,  her  manner  changing  to  hurried   alarm.     "  If  he 
find  thee  here  with  me,  Belle-Isle,  my  fate  is  upon  me !  " 
"  Thy  fate !     Like  father,  like  child  !     A  cruel,  heart- 
less father,  —  a  cruel,  heartless  child.     Oh,  Rosamunda, 
that  ever  I  could  have  thought  to  love  thee ! " 

234 


BELLE-ISLE'S    FAREWELL 

"  Hadst  such  a  thought,  Belle-Isle  ?    Foolish  thought ! " 

"  Ay,  monstrous  thought !  Love  thee?  A  woman 
without  instincts  of  a  woman !  A  woman  who  can 
calmly  look  upon  her  father's  prostrate  form ;  who  can 
stand  sword  in  hand,  while  a  maiden,  all  deceived  and 
misguided,  lies  fainting  at  her  feet."  Belle-Isle  knelt 
beside  Anna  van  der  Loren,  and  lifted  the  little  head 
upon  his  knee. 

"  I  pray  thee  leave  us  !  "  said  Rosamunda  pleadingly. 
"  Thou  canst  do  no  good  here,  but  much  harm,  if  my 
father  still  lives." 

"  Thy  father  is  no  more  to  me  than  he  is  to  thee," 
said  the  other  roughly.  "  I  will  not  leave  poor  little 
Bluemask  to  thy  heartless  caprice." 

"Then  I  must  go,  Belle-Isle;  if  he  recover  let  him 
think  I  fled  from  thee." 

"  I  shall  let  him  think  the  thoughts  the  devil  sends  him. 
Poor  little  Bluemask !  Thou  hast  one  friend.  Foolish 
little  Bluemask !  " 

Rosamunda  left  the  room,  but  paused  in  the  darkened 
hall,  where  she  would  be  safe  from  the  observation  of 
Gonzalvo  upon  his  recovery.  She  stood  watching  Belle- 
Isle,  as  he  bent  over  the  pale  face  of  Anna.  Her  eyes 
burned. 

"  What  a  girlish  face  it  is !  "  exclaimed  Belle-Isle, 
as  he  stroked  the  cheek  softly.  "What  an  inno- 
cent, childish  face,  without  a  line  of  time  or  care ! 
One's  heart  bleeds  for  such  a  guileless  girl  in  such 
a  world." 

"  Belle-Isle  !  "  called  Rosamunda  in  a  low  voice,  "  come 

235 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

hither  into  the  hall  that  I  may  tell  thee  that  which  thou 
shouldst  know." 

"  Little  Bluemask !  "  continued  the  Frenchman 
dreamily.  "  Nay,  it  is  little  Whitemask,  now.  For  the 
mask  of  sleep  hides  the  mask  of  love  and  the  lips 
of  passion." 

"  Belle-Isle  !  "  called  Rosamunda  softly,  "  wilt  thou  not 
come  to  me?" 

"  No,  Rosamunda,  never  again,  never  again  !  When 
I  look  upon  this  little  creature,  I  remember  how  with 
malicious  fingers  thou  didst  thrust  thy  hand  into  her 
inmost  heart  and  play  upon  those  strings  that  would 
have  lain  untouched  for  years, —  for  see:  she  is  but  a 
child  !  But  thou  shalt  never  harm  her  again.  No, 
Rosamunda,  I  swear  it  by  Belle-Isle !  "  he  cried,  lifting 
his  head,  and  darting  toward  the  dusky  form  a  look 
that  scintillated  in  his  fierce  indignation. 

"  Belle-Isle ! "  cried  Rosamunda,  holding  out  one 
hand  toward  him,  which  the  light  just  tipped  upon  the 
fingers. 

"To  me,  youth  and  innocence  are  sacred,"  cried  the 
Frenchman.  "  I  could  almost  pray  she  might  never 
wake  to  learn  thine  infamy!" 

Rosamunda  darted  into  the  room  and  stood  before 
Belle-Isle. 

"  She  must  not  learn  the  truth.  Thou  hast  given  thy 
solemn,  sacred  vow  to  keep  my  secret.  Thou  canst  not 
tell  her  what  I  am." 

"  I  say  thou  shalt  deceive  her  no  longer,"  cried  Belle- 
Isle. 

236 


Ob,  Belle- Isle,  but  I  also  am  a  woman"1  " 


BELLE-ISLE'S    FAREWELL 

"  But  thou  canst  not  betray  me,  Belle-Isle ;  thou  canst 
not  tell  her  the  truth.  Thou  canst  not  tell  her  parents. 
Thou  art  bound  !  " 

"  True,  Enrique,"  said  the  young  man  with  an  intona- 
tion of  scorn  upon  the  assumed  name.  "  Then  be  thou 
Enrique  to  the  end,  but  thou  shalt  play  with  the  sacred 
fire  in  this  poor  body  no  longer !  " 

"  Belle-Isle,  thou  knowest  why  I  have  acted  this  part, 
—  to  save  my  life  and  honor." 

"Thou  saidst  so,  Enrique.  But  does  one  buy  his  own 
honor  by  the  purchase  of  another's  dishonor  ?  Hast  thou 
not  dishonored  this  child  in  the  thought  of  her  parents? 
And  I  cannot  tell  them  the  precious  truth  that  she  is 
spotless.  Better  thine  honor  had  perished,  better  thou 
hadst  died,  than  thus  cloak  so  pure  a  child  in  infamy." 

"  Oh,  Belle-Isle,  but  I  also  am  a  woman ! "  cried 
Rosamunda  wildly.  His  long  cloak  had  fallen  upon  the 
floor  at  his  excited  entrance.  Rosamunda  caught  it  up, 
and  wrapped  it  about  her,  hiding  her  soldier's  uniform. 
It  came  below  her  knees,  and  its  peach-color  set  off  her 
dark,  proud  beauty  in  a  manner  almost  startling.  The 
transformation  was  so  complete,  so  charming,  Belle-Isle 
stared  in  reluctant  admiration.  Before  he  had  recovered 
from  the  trance  into  which  her  marvellous  loveliness 
had  thrown  him,  a  groan  broke  from  the  white  lips  of 
Gonzalvo.  Rosamunda  clasped  her  hands  in  entreaty, 
and  looked  at  the  Frenchman  with  imploring  eyes.  He 
realized  that  her  safety  depended  upon  his  absence. 
His  fierce  anger  partially  subsided ;  he  could  feel  pity 
for  so  beautiful  a  maiden  with  so  savage  a  father. 

237 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

He  rose  softly,  and,  lifting  the  still  unconscious  form  of 
Bluemask,  slipped  from  the  room.  When  he  gained  the 
hall,  he  gave  one  glance  backward.  Rosamunda  had 
hidden  the  cloak  and  stood  with  downcast  face.  Gon- 
zalvo  was  moving  uneasily,  and  one  hand  had  been 
lifted  to  his  head  where  Gerbrand  had  inflicted  the 
wound.  Leaving  them  together,  suspicion  ever  in  the 
father's  heart,  fear  ever  in  the  child's,  Belle-Isle  carried 
the  light  form  of  Anna  van  der  Loren  to  the  linen-win- 
dow. Resting  her  weight  upon  the  sill,  he  gained  the 
stone  ledge,  then  took  up  her  slender  body,  and  moving 
cautiously  and  with  great  peril,  skirted  the  face  of  the 
building  until  he  reached  the  head  of  the  stairs  that  led 
down  into  the  Great  Square.  Feeling  for  each  step,  for 
the  moon  had  not  yet  risen,  he  descended  to  the  ground. 
Breathing  rapidly  from  his  unwonted  burden,  but  still 
feeling  strong  enough  to  bear  her  farther,  he  entered  the 
first  street  that  led  from  the  Square,  as  uncertain  of  his 
plans  for  the  future  as  he  was  conscious  of  the  delightful 
romance  of  the  present. 


238 


Chapter  Seventeen 

LITTLE  BLUEMASK  IS   UNDECEIVED 

WHEN  Belle-Isle  reached  a  place  where  two 
brick  buildings  came  together,  leaving  be- 
tween them  a  passway  of  a  few  feet  in 
width,  he  paused  with  his  burden.  The 
narrow  passage  appeared  as  a  black  line  against  the 
gloom,  reaching  from  the  rude  pavement  to  the  sky. 
He  hesitated  a  moment,  while  his  breath  came  with 
vehemence,  for  he  had  been  greatly  taxed  by  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  flight.  He  staggered  into  the  alley,  and 
as  he  pressed  his  way  along  one  side,  Bluemask's  feet 
occasionally  rubbed  against  the  opposite  wall.  When 
he  had  proceeded  some  distance,  growing  ever  weaker, 
till  it  seemed  his  arms  must  drop  the  little  form  which 
at  first  had  appeared  so  light,  he  came  to  some  steps  at 
the  rear  of  an  imposing  building.  The  steps  led  out  of 
the  passage  upon  a  wooden  platform  before  the  door. 
Belle-Isle  placed  the  girl  upon  the  platform.  Then  he 
seated  himself  beside  her,  to  regain  his  breath.  At  the 
same  time  he  heard  her  sigh,  then  move  her  arm.  Sud- 
denly her  voice  startled  him.  "  Enrique  !  " 

239 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Thou  art  on  thy  way  home,"  said  Belle-Isle  gently. 

He  heard  her  sit  up  and  feel  upon  the  floor.  "  Where 
is  the  light,  Enrique?  "  she  asked  softly.  "Oh, —  did 
my  father,  —  have  I  been  asleep  ?  "  She  caught  his 
arm. 

"  It  was  a  swoon,"  he  said.  She  dropped  his  arm 
with  a  cry  of  terror,  which  scarcely  rose  above  a 
whisper.  "Whoartthou?  Enrique!  Enrique!"  Her 
words  died  away  in  her  throat,  dry  with  fear. 

"  Little  Bluemask,  have  no  fear  of  me,  —  I  am  Nor- 
man, thy  Crimsondoublet.  Listen :  I  will  tell  thee 
everything." 

"  Norman  !  "  she  echoed,  rising  wildly.  "  But  where 
is  Enrique?  What  place  is  this?"  She  started  for- 
ward, and  stumbled  upon  the  steps.  He  caught  her. 

"  Little  girl,  sit  down  till  I  can  tell  thee.  Thou  hast 
been  with  me  in  the  wooden  glove,  and  thou  knowest 
thou  canst  trust  Old  Norman,  —  or  Young  Norman,  as  it 
pleases  thee.  I  am  either,  or  both.  Now  wilt  thou 
listen  quietly,  or  make  an  outcry  and  bring  the  Span- 
iards hither?" 

"  Oh,  where  is  Enrique?"  she  moaned. 

"Child,  child,  canst  thou  not  be  prudent?  Enrique 
is  as  safe  as  the  North  Pole." 

"  Thou  art  his  enemy,  Crimsondoublet ;  thou  wilt 
not  tell  me  the  truth.  He  has  been  injured !  I  must 
find  him,  and  if  he  is  dead,  die  upon  his  bosom." 

"  He  is  not  my  enemy,  but  my  friend.  Thou  shalt 
not  go  forth  upon  this  quest  of  dying  upon  the  bosom 
of  any  man.  Sit  down,  child,  for  I  am  a  man  who 

240 


BLUEMASK    IS    UNDECEIVED 

will  have  his  way.  Obey  like  a  good  child,  or  like  a 
naughty  one  an  thou  wilt.  But  from  here  thou  stirrest 
not  till  I  have  told  thee  the  truth  concerning  this 
Enrique." 

"  I  shall  cry  out,  traitor  !  " 

"  An  thou  make  the  attempt,  I  shall  clap  my  hand 
over  that  innocent  mouth  that  knows  so  many  words  of 
love." 

"  I  shall  believe  not  one  word  against  Enrique." 

"  That  thou  believe  is  naught  to  me,  damsel ;  that 
thou  shalt  at  least  hear  the  truth  is  something.  Now  I 
would  I  had  been  thy  father  to  keep  thy  person  under 
some  lock  and  key.  What !  So  fragile  a  case  contain- 
ing so  precious  a  jewel,  thrown  out  into  the  streets  at 
midnight !  Oh,  thou  ungrateful  daughter,  to  trample 
under  foot  the  lifetime  of  devotion  which  too  kind 
parents  lavished  upon  thee,  and  to  take  in  exchange 
the  kisses  of  a  Spaniard  who  hates  thy  parents  and  thy 
country !  There  is  but  one  excuse  for  thee,  thy  youth. 
Thou  holdest  it,  a  talisman  from  heaven,  against  the 
disdain  that  otherwise  I  should  feel." 

"  Thou  darest  speak  thus  to  me  because  I  am  unpro- 
tected," she  said  in  a  choking  voice.  "  But  I  endure 
everything  to  learn  what  has  happened  to  Enrique !  " 

"  Ay,  to  Enrique?  What  has  happened  to  thy  father 
is  nothing  !  "  he  returned. 

"  My  father  ?  Then  it  is  no  dream  after  all  ?  Oh,  I 
saved  Enrique  !  I  threw  my  body  between  them.  Tell 
me  again  he  is  safe." 

"Ay,  little  fool,  he  is  safe.  Bluemask,  dost  thou 
16  241 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

know  thou  drivest  me  to  hate  thee?  God  knows  I 
yearn  to  think  well  of  every  pretty  lady.  For  what  is 
beauty  but  a  call  for  love  ?  " 

"  I  crave  thy  hatred,  senor.  And  I  have  all  a 
woman's  scorn  for  thee  and  thy  words !  " 

"  And  yet  thou  art  so  young  !  And  yet  they  love  thee 
so  tenderly,  —  that  father  and  mother  !  And  thou  hast 
all  a  woman's  scorn  for  me,  because  I  speak  of  them ! 
Here  is  small  argument  for  marriage,  by  Belle-Isle !  " 

"Misjudge  me, —  what  do  I  care  for  thy  thought? 
My  father  and  mother  are  dear  to  me,  and  I  weep 
through  the  day  when  I  think  of  them.  But  at  night  I 
forget  them  in  a  greater  life  into  which  I  have  been 
plunged.  Are  thy  saints  dear  to  thee,  Norman?  He 
is  my  saint  on  earth,  Enrique  de  Oviedo;  he  is  my 
shrine  on  whose  fair  soul  I  lay  my  prayers  to  God." 

"  I  proceed  with  my  tale,  child,  but  as  touching  Belle- 
Isle,  he  is  no  saint ;  though  I  know  not  but  one  day  he 
may  be  canonized  for  this  night's  work.  Know,  then, 
thou  poor  fledgling,  with  the  keen  pain  of  growth  in  thy 
soul  which  thou  thinkest  to  be  love,  know  this,  —  that 
the  father  of  Enrique  has  for  twenty  years  been  the 
sworn  enemy  of  thy  poor  forsaken  father.  It  was  this 
Gonzalvo  de  Oviedo  who  stole  from  thy  parents  their 
first  babe,  —  that  sister  of  thine  whom  thou  never  hadst 
the  joy  to  know.  Reflect,  Bluemask;  didst  never  hear 
thy  parents  mention  the  Spaniard's  accursed  name  with 
whispered  loathing?" 

She  gave  a  low  cry.  "  Gonzalvo !  "  she  repeated. 
"  Gonzalvo  de  Oviedo !  Now  I  know  where  I  had 

242 


BLUEMASK    IS    UNDECEIVED 

heard  that  name.  It  was  in  my  infancy,  for  they  never 
speak  of  my  abducted  sister.  I  knew,  I  knew  —  "  Her 
voice  broke  off  in  confused  thought. 

"  Yes,  he  is  that  villain.  But  his  hatred  was  not 
gratified.  What  ocean's  bounds  are  wide  enough  to 
contain  the  floods  of  hate?  He  found  thy  parents  had 
in  some  degree  forgotten  their  first-born,  that  in  thee 
they  sought  a  healing  for  their  wounds.  Ay,  thou  wert 
to  them  that  medicinal  touch  which  love  lays  upon  the 
burning  wound  of  sorrow.  And  so  he  said  to  himself, 
-  I  speak  of  this  Gonzalvo,  —  '  Behold,  their  hearts  are 
healing ;  I  must  break  them  anew ! '  So  he  threw  his 
son  in  thy  path,  to  win  thee  with  soft  words  away  from 
those  thou  wert  born  to  comfort.  Then  yesterday  he 
sought  out  Gerbrand  van  der  Loren.  I  was  there  as 
the  old  beggar  and  I  heard  everything.  He  told  Ger- 
brand and  thy  mother  that  thou  hadst  run  away  from 
them  of  thine  own  accord,  that  thou  and  Enrique  were 
living  together.  They  would  not  believe.  Thy  mother 
struck  him  in  the  mouth,  —  a  righteous  blow !  Gon- 
zalvo told  Gerbrand  he  would  take  him  to  the  proof.  I 
followed  them.  We,  in  the  hall,  heard  thy  words  of 
love.  When  Enrique  said  the  apple  had  fallen,  —  it 
was  but  a  signal  from  Gonzalvo  to  prompt  Enrique  to 
draw  confessions  from  thy  breast.  At  the  sound,  dost 
remember  how  Enrique  came  out  into  the  hall !  He 
went  straight  to  Gonzalvo,  who  handed  him  the  apple 
that  had  never  been  dropped.  It  was  all  a  plot.  We 
heard  thee  tell  how  thou  hadst  run  gladly  from  thy 
mother's  nest,  and  more  we  heard,  till  poor  Gerbrand 

243 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

could  not  endure  his  shame.  He  rushed  in  upon  you. 
He  would  have  slain  Enrique,  but  thou  wert  between. 
I  saw  Gerbrand  look  upon  thee,  as  one  looks  upon  the 
dead.  He  left  thee  forever.  Thou  didst  fall  fainting  at 
Enrique's  feet.  Did  he  stoop  to  raise  thee  up?  Nay, 
what  cared  he  for  thee?  The  play  was  ended.  Fierce 
with  anger  at  thy  treatment,  I  carried  thee  from  those 
conspirators.  Enrique  watched  me ;  he  did  not  care. 
He  had  no  more  use  for  the  little  fool  who  had  wrecked 
so  much  for  a  dream  of  happiness !  He  let  me  have 
thee,  as  he  might  have  thrown  to  a  varlet  a  cast-off 
garment.  He  was  done  with  thee  !  Gerbrand  was  con- 
vinced of  thine  infamy ;  Gonzalvo  had  his  revenge ; 
Enrique  was  ready  for  a  new  play." 

Belle-Isle  had  spoken  in  a  passionate  undertone,  his 
voice,  flexible  and  southern,  changing  in  a  marvellous 
manner  to  suit  his  mood,  —  now  fierce  and  powerful  in 
his  denunciation  of  Enrique,  now  scornful  in  its  treat- 
ment of  Anna's  childish  trust.  But  when  he  spoke  of 
Gerbrand,  it  was  as  if  the  wounded  pride  and  agonized 
despair  of  the  father  had  found  utterance.  In  truth,  the 
Frenchman  felt  each  emotion  to  the  depth  of  his  soul, 
and  each  none  the  less  because  it  so  swiftly  gave  place 
to  another.  She  understood  his  words,  for  her  attention 
was  profound;  but  she  understood  even  better  that 
which  spoke  to  her  without  words.  Conviction  often 
hides  itself  in  the  words  that  seek  to  dress  it  forth ; 
but  there  are  certain  vibrant  notes  of  the  human 
voice  that  cause  corresponding  chords  in  him  who 
listens  to  answer  back  the  harmony  of  faith.  His  man- 

244 


BLUEMASK    IS    UNDECEIVED 

ner  compelled  belief,  and  what  she  heard  crystallized 
the  fears  that  had  often  beset  her.  She  had  always 
inwardly  shrunk  from  Gonzalvo's  eyes.  If  Enrique  had 
really  loved  her,  would  he  have  suffered  this  Norman  to 
carry  her  away?  It  was  a  part  of  the  plot  that  began 
with  the  abduction  of  her  infant  sister. 

Anna  began  to  weep,  and  presently  she  was  unable  to 
stifle  her  sobs.  Belle-Isle  made  no  motion,  uttered  no 
word.  Her  grief  became  more  audible.  The  moments 
passed,  but  she  could  not  control  herself.  The  ex- 
pression of  her  anguish  had  in  it  the  quivering  accent  of 
a  child  who  for  the  time  finds  comfort  not  even  in  tears. 
It  was  a  pitiful  voice,  and  his  heart  ached.  Sometimes 
a  little  "  Oh  !  "  would  be  prolonged  below  the  breath, 
as  if  all  her  despair  were  seeking  to  crowd  itself  into 
that  one  word,  which  may  express  any  emotion  of  the 
soul.  But  that  unconscious  exclamation  would  smite 
upon  her  ears,  and  render  her  conscious  of  the  misery 
it  sounded,  and  it  then  would  be  broken  by  heavy  sobs, 
as  if  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  her  own  grief  were  more 
than  she  could  bear. 

At  last  the  young  man  found  the  situation  intolerable. 
"  Do  not,  do  not,"  he  murmured.  "  All  is  not  hopeless, 
little  Bluemask.  Listen,  child  !  " 

There  came  to  them  the  sound  of  feet.  She  involun- 
tarily checked  her  sobs,  realizing  how  much  safer  she 
was  with  Belle-Isle  than  she  might  be  with  another. 
Two  persons  entered  the  narrow  alley,  and  advanced 
slowly.  Suddenly  Belle-Isle  grasped  Anna's  wrist  warn- 
ingly.  He  had  recognized  their  voices. 

245 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Of  course  I  am  sure,"  said  one.  "  I  have  often  gone 
this  way,  though  never  with  such  a  dizzy  head.  There 
is  a  physician  on  the  next  street."  The  speaker  was 
Gonzalvo. 

"  I  pray  the  saints  we  may  soon  come  to  him,"  said 
the  weary  voice  of  Rosamunda. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Gonzalvo  mockingly.  "  Oh,  ho,  my  son  ! 
And  is  my  weight  so  heavy  when  I  lean  but  one  hand 
upon  thy  shoulder?  Come,  Enrique,  be  a  man  !  " 

Rosamunda  did  not  answer.  Slowly  they  came  for- 
ward, till  they  were  opposite  the  recess  where  sat  Anna 
and  Belle-Isle  with  bated  breath.  Their  feet  stopped, 
and  Gonzalvo  panted. 

"  By  our  Lady,  Enrique,  thy  father  is  almost  spent ! 
Let  me  breathe  a  space."  There  was  a  pause.  "  And 
so  the  little  fool  ran  away  after  her  father?"  he  presently 
continued. 

"  She  left  when  she  had  lain  a  long  time  in  a  swoon," 
said  Rosamunda. 

"  Ah,  ah  !  And  didst  thou  kiss  her  back  to  conscious- 
ness, thou  dog?"  he  said  with  a  rude  laugh. 

"  No,  father,  I  did  not  touch  her,  after  she  had 
fallen." 

"  Well,  there  was  no  need.  We  had  finished  our  use 
for  the  simpleton.  One  thing  is  certain,  she  will  never 
go  into  her  father's  house  again  !  He  would  strike  her 
to  the  earth  before  he  would  take  her  hand  in  his !  " 

"  I  am  glad  we  are  done  with  her,"  said  Rosamunda. 

"  No  doubt,"  he  cried  savagely.  "  Thou  art  ever  an 
obstacle  !  When  thou  obeyest  my  will,  it  is  because  thou 

246 


BLUEMASK    IS    UNDECEIVED 

darest  not  disobey.  Thou  never  enterest  into  my  little 
plans  with  thy  heart !  " 

"Father!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  trembling  voice. 
"Shall  we  not  go  on?  It  is  so  dark." 

"  Ay,  it  is  dark,  but  is  not  thy  father  with  thee?  "  He 
laughed.  "  And  thou  art  sick  of  this  sweet  little  Anna 
van  der  Loren,  ay,  son?" 

"  Father,  I  was  never  asked  to  do  so  hard  a  thing  as 
to  make  love  to  her,"  said  the  other. 

"  By  our  Lady !  "  cried  Gonzalvo,  "  it  suits  my  re- 
venge that  she  should  be  unharmed  while  her  parents 
think  her  ruined.  Every  time  I  think  of  that,  my  sweet 
revenge  twitches  a  year  off  my  shoulder.  Let  us  on  to 
the  physician.  My  head  spins  and  whirls.  A  curse 
upon  him  and  his  proud  Josephine." 

They  passed  up  the  alley,  and  it  was  not  until  the  echo 
of  their  slow  tread  died  away  that  Belle-Isle  spoke. 
"  Little  Bluemask,  wilt  thou  not  go  with  me  back  to  thy 
father's  house?" 

"  Ay,  Norman,  I  will  go,"  she  said  in  a  voice  singu- 
larly steady  though  lifeless. 

He  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  her,  and  after  waiting 
a  moment  in  the  vain  hope  that  the  right  words  might 
come,  he  took  her  hand  and  led  her  away.  They 
traversed  street  after  street.  He  longed  to  look  into  her 
face,  and  read  what  emotion  was  written  there ;  but  it 
seemed  to  be  their  fate  that  they  should  ever  continue 
friends  in  the  dark. 

At  last  they  stood  before  the  house  of  Van  der  Loren. 
Belle-Isle  knocked  loudly  at  the  door.  The  echoes  of 

247 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

the  blow  came  back  sharply  from  the  end  of  the  deserted 
street.  He  knocked  again,  this  time  with  a  long  con- 
tinued effort.  Somewhere  a  bolt  was  drawn.  Then  a 
small  gate  opened  that  led  into  a  covered  path  at  the 
side  of  the  house. 

"Is  that  Hulst  Filips?"  asked  Anna  in  the  same 
deadened  tone  which  had  smote  upon  Belle-Isle's  heart. 

"Ay,  it  is  Hulst  Filips,"  said  a  surly  voice ;  "it  is 
Hulst  Filips,  that  is  who  it  is." 

"  Hasten  to  open  the  door  to  us,  Hulst,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Nor  neither  will  I  open  any  door  to  any  one  this 
night,"  said  Hulst  Filips,  whose  fat  person  was  dimly 
outlined  against  the  darkness  of  the  covered  path. 
"  So  away  with  thee  !  " 

Anna  now  spoke  with  sharp  sternness :  "  Hulst,  dost 
not  know  my  voice  ?  Go  call  my  father  !  " 

"  I  must  needs  have  a  long  voice  to  reach  him,"  said 
the  gate-keeper,  "  if  Gerbrand  van  der  Loren  is  the  man 
thou  art  fathering.  For  he  and  the  mistress  took  coach 
an  hour  ago,  and  made  off  with  the  wind's  speed,  saying 
they  would  look  upon  Brussels  no  more  in  the  body  !  " 

Anna's  voice  now  showed  a  sudden  agitation.  "  Oh, 
Hulst,  what  mean  these  words?  Where  is  my  father?" 

"  Now  here  is  some  mistake,"  said  Hulst  Filips,  "  for 
when  the  master  departed,  he  said  to  me,  '  Filips,'  — 
these  were  his  words,  Gerbrand's  words,  — '  Filips,  thou 
hast  been  my  faithful  seneschal,'  said  he ;  '  I  leave  every- 
thing in  thy  care  until,'  said  he,  '  I  send  for  them.  Thou 
mayest  think  that  I  am  leaving  behind  me  a  daughter,' 
said  he ;  '  but,'  —  these  be  still  his  words,  '  I  have  no 

248 


BLUEMASK    IS    UNDECEIVED 

daughter.'  I  said  unto  him,  'I  thought — 'said  I,  and 
then  he  said  again,  '  I  have  no  daughter.'  And  he 
lashed  the  horses  to  a  frenzy,  and  away  they  whirled 
through  the  night,  I  know  not  whither.  Now  I  know 
thou  art  that  Anna  that  once  lived  here.  But  as  thou 
art  not  his  daughter,  as  I  had  once  thought,  I  have 
naught  to  say  to  thee  but  that  I  hope  God  may  send 
thee  a  good  night,  and  so  no  more  from  Hulst  Filips." 
Whereupon  the  iron  gate  clanged  to,  and  the  seneschal 
was  gone.  Again  silence  reigned  in  the  street. 

Belle-Isle,  realizing  in  some  degree  what  must  be  the 
child's  emotions, —  he  ever  thought  of  her  as  of  a 
child,  —  bowed  his  head  in  some  embarrassment.  At 
last  he  came  to  a  sudden  resolution.  "  Little  Blue- 
mask  !  "  he  said.  There  was  no  answer.  He  looked 
softly  about.  She  was  gone. 

The  moon  was  just  rising,  and  it  whitened  the  roof 
of  Gerbrand's  deserted  house.  A  dark  form  flitted 
along  the  opposite,  side  of  the  road,  and  darted  into  the 
first  cross  street.  It  was  Anna,  fleeing  from  Belle-Isle. 
Whither?  With  sudden  fear  the  Frenchman  bounded 
after  her.  As  he  gained  the  mouth  of  the  side  street, 
he  saw  her  disappearing  into  another  thoroughfare. 

Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  he  slipped  into  a  doorway 
lest  she  learn  that  she  were  followed.  She  had  been 
checked  by  a  band  of  Spanish  soldiers  who  were  passing 
along  a  road  at  right  angles  to  the  one  in  which  she 
crouched.  They  bore  torches  and  were  singing  rough 
songs  in  ridicule  of  the  timid  Netherlanders.  "  They 
are  all  heretics,  all,  all,"  they  were  singing.  They  bore 

249 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

a  prisoner  in  their  midst,  a  woman,  whose  shrill  voice 
rose  above  their  carousal.  She  was  pleading  for  mercy. 
They  were  furious  from  drink  and  mad  in  the  license 
Alva  accorded  them.  They  flashed  into  sight,  then 
vanished,  the  glow  of  their  torches  slowly  dying  away. 
Anna  continued  her  flight,  running  as  if  for  her  life. 
And  so  she  came  to  the  river,  upon  whose  surface 
sparkled  a  wrinkled  moon.  As  if  she  had  that  to  do 
which  would  not  admit  of  reflection  or  delay,  she  leaped 
upon  a  rattling  wharf,  the  private  property  of  a  wealthy 
burgher,  and  with  two  bounds  gained  its  edge.  Then 
with  another  leap  she  rose  in  the  full  silver  light,  and 
her  form  struck  the  surface  of  the  water  with  a  heavy 
splash  that  sent  the  water  rippling  against  the  wharf. 
Belle-Isle,  guessing  her  intention,  had  run  forward,  but 
he  had  been  too  late.  When  he  reached  the  wharf,  her 
head  had  vanished,  while  over  the  spot  where  she  had 
disappeared,  the  wrinkled  moon  danced  on  the  troubled 
tide. 


250 


Chapter  Eighteen 

BELLE-ISLE   PREPARES  FOR  ADVENTURES 

BELLE-ISLE  placed  upon  the  wharf  his  sword 
and  purse,  then  sprang  into  the  river.     Anna 
came  to  the  surface,  and  her  arms  caught  him 
in  a  despairing  embrace,  instinct  seeking  to 
save  the  life  her  mind  had  sought  to  destroy.     She  was 
half-conscious  when  he  drew  her  upon  the  wharf.     She 
quickly  revived,  and  shuddered   from   the  cold.     The 
Frenchman,  as  he  replaced  his  sword  and  purse,  clenched 
his  teeth  to  prevent  them  from  chattering  unheroically. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  cold  !  "  shivered  the  girl.     "  What  shall 
I  do?  "     Her  voice  quavered  childishly. 

"  Come,"  said  Belle-Isle  putting  his  arm  about  her. 

"I  will  take  thee  to  an  inn.     Walk  briskly;  that  will 

be  of  some    avail."    She  did  not  seek  to  draw  away. 

"  Anna  van  der  Loren,"  said  the  young  man  solemnly, 

as  they  almost  ran  down  the  street,  "  thou  wouldst  have 

thrown  thy  life  away.     To  thee  it  was  nothing,  but  to 

me  it  was  worth  the  risk  of  my  own." 

"  Why  should  I  wish  to  live?  "  she  shivered. 

"  Anna,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  there  is  a  worse  world  than 

this !  "     In  his  many  wanderings  through  Brussels,  the 

25* 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Frenchman  had  come  to  learn  the  city  well.  It  was 
not  long  before  he  stopped  at  a  little  inn  near  the 
city  wall.  He  beat  upon  the  door  with  the  resound- 
ing knocker.  "What  will  they  think?"  she  asked 
suddenly. 

"  What  they  please,"  said  Belle-Isle. 

The  door  was  opened  by  an  unkempt,  yawning  man, 
who  had  been  sleeping  upon  a  heap  of  straw.  He  bore 
some  of  his  bedding  in  his  hair.  They  entered  a  large 
room,  where  a  bed  of  dusky  coals  was  sinking  to  ashes 
in  a  huge  fireplace. 

"  The  landlord  !  "  said  Belle-Isle  in  Spanish. 

"  He  is  a-bed,"  mumbled  the  sleeping  night-watch. 

"  Fetch  him !  "  said  the  Frenchman  fiercely.  The 
man  slunk  from  the  room.  Belle-Isle  placed  Anna  upon 
a  settle  before  the  hearth,  and  rattled  his  sword  impa- 
tiently. It  was  a  long  time  before  the  landlord  appeared, 
hastily  dressed,  and  pale  from  apprehension.  He  held 
by  the  arm  the  disreputable  night-watch,  as  if  to  rein- 
force his  fleeing  courage. 

"  Fellow,"  said  Belle-Isle,  striding  up  to  him,  "  give 
this  lady  a  room,  and  a  change  of  woman's  dress  and  be 
quick  for  thy  life  !  Hast  no  maid  ?  Rouse  her,  rouse 
her,  or  I  will  go  drag  her  in  by  her  tangled  locks. 
Quick !  quick !  Stop,  stop !  Bring  me  a  change  of 
clothes,  and  I  will  dress  beside  this  hearth.  Stir  up  the 
fire.  Have  in  a  huge  roaring  backlog  to  my  comfort. 
Stop !  Fetch  me  a  robe,  —  anything  till  my  clothes 
can  be  dried.  Now  go !  Nay,  wait.  How  many  ac- 
cursed heretics  hast  thou  in  this  foul  rendezvous?" 

252 


PREPARING    FOR    ADVENTURES 

"  Not  one,  good  master,  not  one,"  said  the  terrified 
landlord,  clinging  desperately  to  his  servant. 

"  What !  not  one?  "  roared  Belle-Isle,  advancing  upon 
him.  "  Belike  thou  art  thyself  a  doomed  Calvinist, 
or  Lutheran,  or  a  renegade  Anabaptist,  thou  liverless 
worm !  Why  dost  stand  like  a  ghost  while  we  freeze  ? 
Have  I  not  wherewith  to  buy  thy  service  ? "  With 
a  magnificent  gesture  he  flung  a  coin  upon  the  floor, 
thereby  emptying  his  purse.  "Think  thyself  lucky 
to  have  money  instead  of  the  Inquisition !  "  he  cried 
waving  his  sword. 

The  servant  was  as  panic-stricken  as  his  master.  The 
landlord  eyed  the  coin  with  a  loving  eye,  and  stooped 
to  pick  it  up,  although  the  terrible  Spaniard  froze  his 
blood  with  that  eagle  glance.  To  fortify  his  resolution, 
he  still  clutched  the  night-watch's  arm  in  an  iron  grasp, 
while  with  the  other  hand  he  reached  for  the  money. 
Unluckily  at  this  moment  Belle-Isle  waved  his  sword 
in  a  manner  so  blood  curdling  that  the  servant  made 
a  dash  for  the  door.  This  unexpected  movement  threw 
the  landlord  flat  upon  his  back,  while  his  heavy  fall 
brought  his  servant  tumbling  down  on  top  of  his  rotund 
body.  They  scrambled  together  with  much  entangle- 
ment of  leg  and  arm.  "  By  the  foul  fiend  !  "  shouted 
Belle-Isle,  rushing  toward  the  street  door,  "  an  ye  get 
not  speedily  to  your  business,  I  will  have  in  my  whole 
company  of  Spanish  soldiers  !  What,  ho  !  "  He  flung 
open  the  door.  A  howl  burst  from  the  servant,  a  shout 
from  the  landlord  ;  they  were  up  and  away  in  a  moment. 
Belle-Isle  closed  the  door  and  forgetting  his  grandeur, 

253 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

heaped  wood  upon  the  coals  with  his  own  noble  hands. 
The  moments  passed,  during  which  Anna  ceased  to 
shiver  as  the  warmth  stole  out  into  the  room  like  a  voice 
of  welcome.  Belle-Isle  did  not  cease  rattling  his  scab- 
bard against  his  brass-linked  girdle.  No  one  came.  At 
last,  in  uneasy  doubt,  he  took  up  a  candle  and  set  forth 
upon  an  exploration.  There  was  no  one  to  be  found 
in  the  house.  He  now  understood  why  the  landlord 
had  been  so  long  in  first  making  his  appearance ;  it  had 
been  in  order  to  give  his  family  time  to  flee  from  the 
terrible  Spaniards.  Now  even  the  landlord  and  servant 
had  fled.  Belle-Isle  returned  to  the  general  room. 

"This  way,  little  Bluemask,"  he  said,  beckoning  with 
his  candle.  She  rose,  dazed  and  miserable,  and  followed 
him,  unquestioning,  to  the  landlord's  own  room.  "  Here 
will  soon  be  a  good  fire,"  he  cried,  kneeling  before  a 
vacant  fireplace,  and  arranging  the  faggots.  "  See, 
there  are  women's  dresses  thrown  about;  make  an 
exchange  and  dry  thine  own  apparel.  Have  no  fear  of 
an  intrusion,  for  there  be  goodly  bolts  upon  this  door. 
Then,  when  thou  art  at  some  comfort,  come  back  to  the 
front  room.  There  shall  I  await  thee.  We  have  some 
adventures  before  us,  Bluemask." 

He  smiled  upon  her  brightly  as  he  rose  from  his 
knees,  and  the  light  from  the  dancing  flames  showed 
his  face  radiantly  beautiful.  She  looked  up  at  him 
in  a  helpless  way,  with  such  a  desolate  light  in  her 
cheerless  eyes,  that  he  was  deeply  touched.  He  would 
have  kissed  her  'Compassionately,  but  he  suddenly  re- 
membered that  she  thought  herself  a  woman.  To  him 

254 


PREPARING    FOR    ADVENTURES 

she  was  still  a  child,  who  had  wandered  into  circum- 
stances too  great  for  her.  As  he  paused  at  the  door 
he  looked  back  upon  the  pitiful  figure,  the  slight  form 
to  which  the  wet  clothes  clung,  making  her  smaller  and 
more  childlike  than  usual. 

Slowly  he  left  her,  taking  with  him  a  suit  belonging  to 
the  landlord.  When  he  regained  the  general  room,  the 
fire  was  blazing  cheerfully.  He  attired  himself  in  the 
big  misfit,  and  warmed  his  flesh-colored  hose,  and 
crimson  doublet  before  the  hearth.  As  they  dried, 
he  hummed  a  French  song,  while  a  smile  flitted  like 
a  chorus  between  each  verse.  He  was  thinking  of 
little  Bluemask,  and  of  his  future  plans.  He  was  quite 
happy  now,  although  not  long  ago  his  parting  from 
Rosamunda  had  stirred  the  depths  of  his  anger  and 
sorrow.  Ah,  how  he  had  loved  Rosamunda !  But 
now  when  he  thought  of  her  his  heart  was  stirred  with 
indignation.  So  cruel,  so  heartless,  so  Spanish  in  her 
inmost  being!  Her  face?  Yes.  Her  foot?  Yes, 
indeed.  Her  form?  True.  But  her  nature, —  that 
nature  which  could  league  itself  with  Gonzalvo  to  break 
Anna's  heart  and  the  hearts  of  her  parents?  No,  that 
was  not  for  him.  Belle-Isle  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  a  good  thing,"  he  mused,  "  that  I  could  stop 
loving  Rosamunda !  Now  what  would  become  of  me 
if  I,  knowing  her  so  unworthy,  were  unable  to  quit 
adoring  her?  Thank  heaven,  I  can  stop  loving  on  the 
very  instant !  "  He  sighed.  "  What  a  face  she  has,  — 
what  a  delicious  haughtiness.  But  how  I  hate  her  when 
I  think  of  little  Bluemask  lying  white  and  still  at  her 

=  55 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

feet !  "  It  weighed  nothing  with  him  that  Rosamunda 
was  under  mortal  terror  of  her  father.  He  ceased  to 
regard  the  situation  from  her  point  of  view. 

When  his  clothes  were  dry,  he  dressed,  then  waited 
impatiently  for  Anna.  As  she  did  not  come,  he  at  last 
went  to  seek  her.  Yes,  she  was  quite  ready.  She  had 
been  ready,  —  how  long?  She  did  not  know.  She 
let  him  lead  her  by  the  hand  back  to  the  settle  before 
the  fire.  She  made  a  wan  figure  in  her  shrunken  clothes, 
her  hair  hanging  about  her  shoulders,  where  it  had  been 
spread  to  dry,  her  face  bloodless,  her  eyes  without  ani- 
mation. He  was  touched  by  her  thin  arms,  the  arms  of 
a  child.  He  was  also  conscious  of  his  own  sorry  appear- 
ance, for  the  crimson  doublet  had  not  been  improved 
by  its  bath,  and  the  flesh-colored  hose  were  streaked 
with  mud.  Alas !  his  finery  belonged  to  his  romance 
of  the  past,  his  romance  of  Rosamunda.  He  sighed, 
then  rattled  his  sword  for  comfort,  and  addressed  the 
girl  as  he  walked  up  and  down  before  the  settle. 

"  Little  Bluemask,  where  is  it  likely  thy  parents  have 
gone?  What  places  have  they  spoken  of  as  probable 
visiting-points?  Trace  them  with  thy  fancy,  child." 

"They  would  have  carried  me  away  to  France,  if  I 
had  not  broken  their  hearts,"  she  answered ;  "  but  often 
before  that,  my  father  spoke  of  going  to  Holland  where 
our  religion  has  more  favor."  She  drooped  her  head, 
as  her  dull,  listless  tones  came  to  an  end. 

"France?"  he  repeated.  "Think  of  that  no  more, 
child,  they  have  not  gone  to  France.  I  am  done  with 
France  till  a  certain  lady  I  wot  of  hath  either  died  or 

256 


PREPARING    FOR    ADVENTURES 

married,  —  it  is  all  one  to  me,  by  Belle-Isle !  But 
Holland?  Yes,  it  shall  be  Holland,  whither  they  have 
departed.  So  we  have  settled  that  point.  Come,  cheer 
up,  little  girl,  let  us  plan.  Tell  me  about  Hulst  Filips. 
He  knew  thee  when  thou  wast  a  prattling  child  ?  Hath 
no  winning  ways  to  cozen  him  into  good  humor?  " 

"He  cannot  endure  me,  Norman.  He  has  a  son;  his 
son  did  not  consider  me  a  prattling  child ;  and  so  my 
father  told  Hulst  Filips  he  must  either  depart,  or  drive 
away  his  son.  But  Hulst  Filips  loved  his  position  better 
than  his  son,  so  he  abode,  and  the  son  departed.  There- 
fore Hulst  hates  me,  while  still  he  lives  upon  my  father's 
bounty." 

"  Dost  mean  to  say,  Anna,  that  this  son  of  the 
seneschal  was  in  love  with  thee  ?  " 

"  He  was,"  replied  Anna,  with  a  barely  perceptible 
trace  of  spirit  in  her  voice. 

"  Now  this  is  a  strange  thing,"  exclaimed  Belle-Isle, 
who  purposely  addressed  Anna  as  a  child,  in  order  to 
rouse  her  from  her  lethargy,  for  he  had  found  her  proud 
of  the  few  years  she  had  lived.  "  In  my  country,  men 
do  not  go  into  the  nursery  to  hunt  sweethearts.  Yet 
art  thou,  a  mere  child,  already  loved  by  two  !  So  there 
is  no  hope  in  Hulst.  Now  as  to  relatives?" 

"  There  are  none." 

"  Better  still.     Now  as  to  this  Enrfque?  " 

"  I  ask  only  that  I  may  never  see  his  face  again !  " 
she  cried,  with  such  fierce  energy,  that  the  Frenchman 
clapped  his  hand  upon  his  sword  in  delight. 

"  Now,  now  !  "  he  cried,  "  this  is  best  of  all.  We  are 
17  257 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

in  a  fair  way  to  mend  the  bucket  when  we  have  found 
out  where  it  leaks.  Thou  heardst  him  say  to  Gonzalvo 
how  his  making  love  to  thee  was  the  hardest  thing 
he  had  ever  done  in  his  life,  and  that  he  was  done 
with  thee  since  he  had  used  thee  for  his  revenge,  and 
that  he-  " 

"  I  heard  everything,  Norman,  —  do  not !  " 
"  In  a  word,  Anna,  thou  lovest  him  as  at  the  start?  " 
"  I  left  all  love  for  him  at  the  river  bank,"  she  said. 
"  Oh,  I  would  have  died  — not  to  escape  his  treachery, 
but  to  flee  from  thoughts  of  my  mother." 
"  We  will  go  to  this  mother,  child." 
She  jumped  up  from  the  settle.     "  Oh,  when?  how?" 
"  That,  we  are  to  plan.    There  is  nothing  to  keep  thee 
in  Brussels  ;  no  parents,  —  no  relatives,  no  lover.    There 
is  nothing  to  keep  me  here,  since  the  lady  I  love  has 
proved  herself  a  cruel  and  heartless  maid." 

"Is  it  so,  Norman?"  she  asked,  coming  to  his  side. 
"  Dost  thou  suffer  also?  " 

Belle-Isle  felt  for  his  heart,  but  his  emotion  changed 
before  he  found  it.  "  Little  Bluemask,"  he  said,  laying 
his  hand  gently  upon  her  shoulder,  "we  shall  go  to 
Holland,  and  find  thy  parents,  and  compel  them  to  be- 
lieve in  thine  innocence.  I  will  go  as  the  old  beggar, 
thou  shalt  be  my  daughter.  I  am  old  enough  to  be  thy 
father,  —  almost  old  enough.  At  least  I  am  twenty- 
two  ;  and  that  is  a  grave  age,  child.  I  can  scarce  re- 
member when  I  was  an  infant  of  thy  tender  years.  We 
must  walk  to  Holland,  since  we  are  without  money. 
When  we  meet  any  one,  I  shall  be  blind,  and  thou  shalt 

258 


PREPARING    FOR    ADVENTURES 

have  me  safe  by  the  hand  to  steer  me  along  like  some 
grand  old  ship  towed  among  reefs.  Wilt  thou  come  with 
me?  " 

"  Alas  !  Norman,  with  whom  else  may  I  go?  And  thou 
believest  in  me,  —  thou,  only,  hast  faith  in  me !  " 

"  And  remember,  child,  I  saved  thy  life.  Therefore 
thy  life  belongs  to  me.  Had  I  not  reached  forth  my 
arms  to  snatch  thee  from  the  grave,  thou  wouldst  at  this 
moment  be  dead,  but  not  only  dead — that  were  the 
smallest  part  of  the  matter,  —  but  frying  thy  tender  body 
in  the  fires  of  the  devil ;  there  is  no  other  prospect  for  a 
suicide." 

"  Oh,  Norman,  I  was  insane  with  mad  thoughts  !  There 
seemed  hot  irons  pressing  upon  my  brain !  I  thought 
of  Enrique's  villainy,  and  of  my  mother's  tears,  and  of 
my  father's  aching  heart  as  he  lashed  the  horses  forward 
in  the  night,  to  get  away  from  his  daughter  whom  he  had 
disinherited.  And  I  saw  my  past  in  all  its  true  light  for 
the  first  time.  Love  had  blinded  me.  Enrique's  soft 
words  had  poisoned  me,  —  yes,  I  saw  all  this  for  the 
first  time.  I  threw  myself  into  the  river  to  end  every- 
thing. But  I  forgot  God.  Yes,  I  owe  my  life  to  thee, 
my  life  and  my  soul." 

"  God  keep  thy  soul,  little  Bluemask,"  said  the  young 
man  tenderly,  "  but  I  claim  thy  life." 

"  How,  Norman?"  she  asked,  looking  into  his  face 
doubtfully.  "  Is  it  thy  wish  to  marry  me?  " 

Belle-Isle  was  angry.  "  Now  did  God  ever  turn  out 
so  pretty  a  form  with  such  unfinished  works  in  its  head  !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  Canst  think  of  nothing  but  a  husband, 

259 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

child?     Wait  till   thou   art  grown  before  thy  mind   run 
riot  with  thoughts  of  love." 

She  jerked  away  from  his  grasp,  while  red  spots 
showed  in  her  cheeks.  "  Do  not  think  it  is  my  wish 
to  marry  thee  !  "  she  cried.  "  But  I  knew  not  what  else 
thy  words  might  mean.  No,  I  shall  never  marry,  never ; 
that  thought  is  put  away  with  the  thought  of —  "  She 
would  not  speak  Enrique's  name,  but  relapsed  into 
silence. 

"  Anna,"  said  Belle-Isle  more  gently,  "  love  is  a  very 
small  part  of  life,  but  there  is  always  so  much  more  bone 
than  marrow !  From  the  time  we  begin  to  reflect  that 
we  be  single  persons  until  the  time  we  have  doubled  in 
matrimony,  then  is  love's  season.  But  consider  the  long 
stretches  on  either  side  of  that  verdant  pasture  of  April 
delights.  Love's  day  is  set  between  years  of  dreams 
and  years  of  regret.  When  I  ask  for  thy  life,  it  is  that  I 
may  guard  it,  and  so  restore  thee  innocent  and  sweet 
and  pure  to  thy  parents.  Give  me  this  guardianship  of 
thee,  Anna,  and  thou  shalt  find  me  a  gentle  master." 

"  I  wonder  why  thou  art  willing  to  undertake  the 
guardianship  of  such  a  thankless  child.  But  I  fear  even 
to  question  thy  reason,  lest  thou  change  thy  mind." 

"  Fear  not;  and  as  for  my  reasons,  they  are  two :  first 
there  is  the  adventure  of  tramping  through  the  country 
with  young  company,  instead  of  tramping  alone  ;  second, 
my  sweetheart  has  proved  unworthy  —  her  name  is 
Rosamunda." 

"  It  is  a  pretty  name,  Norman,"  she  said  a  little 
wistfully. 

260 


PREPARING    FOR    ADVENTURES 

"  Is  it,  Anna?  Why,  so  I  used  to  think,  but  I  have 
changed  my  mind.  Perhaps  I  was  right  at  first.  Rosa- 
munda  !  It  does  sound  poetical."  He  sighed.  "  Well, 
—  and  the  few  acquaintances  I  had  in  these  parts  are 
imprisoned  by  the  Inquisition.  So  I  am  all  alone  in  the 
world,  but  for  thee.  It  is  a  sweet  thought  that  thou 
mayst  hear  me  when  I  laugh,  even  if  thou  canst  not  echo 
my  mirth.  It  is  so  lonesome  to  laugh  alone  !  And  so 
we  beg  our  way  from  town  to  town  and  see  many  people 
and  bright  scenes,  and  come  into  Holland." 

"  But  if  my  father  went  to  France?" 

"No,  he  did  not  go  to  France;  he  went  to  Holland. 
We  will  inquire  if  his  carriage  was  seen  thus  and  thus. 
We  will  trace  them  without  doubt." 

"  Heaven  bless  thee,  Norman  !     But  to  beg  !  " 

"Why,  yes,  who  will  give  us  sustenance  unless  we  beg 
for  it?  The  world  does  not  give  away  anything  for 
nothing. " 

"  But,"  said  the  girl,  "  one  might  work.  Does  that 
not  sound  pleasanter  than  thy  choice?  There  is  the  in- 
dependence ;  and  when  we  have  money,  we  can  ride 
upon  our  way." 

"  Sound  pleasanter,  little  Bluemask?  Now  thou  canst 
not  think  how  thy  song  of  industry  grates  upon  my  ear ! 
Work,  forsooth!'  What  adventure  is  there  in  work? 
Anybody  can  work;  the  lowest  churl  pan  work.  Any- 
body can  ride  through  life  if  he  can  pay  the  driver. 
This  talk  of  work  takes  all  the  taste  out  of  my  mouth 
that  had  come  to  fill  me  with  delight  as  I  chewed  dainty 
fancies." 

261 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"As  for  me,  Norman,  it  is  nothing.  But  methinks 
thou  wilt  not  feel  at  ease  in  stretching  forth  thy  hand 
for  alms." 

"  Then  think  it  no  more,  child  ;  I  shall  be  more  at  my 
ease  than  I  would  be  toiling  in  sweat  and  dishonor !  I 
shall  know  all  the  time  I  am  a  gentleman,  and  that  he 
who  gives  me  alms  is  a  fool,  and  that  she  who  holds  my 
other  hand  is  my  little  sister.  Come,  thou  wilt  adven- 
ture with  me  ?  " 

"  It  shall  be  according  to  thy  will." 

"  Good  !  Now  I  must  make  thee  look  more  like  the 
old  man's  beggar-maid.  We  must  find  shears  for  thy 
hair,  poor  child,  and  crop  thee,  for  such  tresses  could 
never  be  disguised.  And  we  must  snip  thy  skirt  here 
and  there,  making  it  ragged ;  and  thou  shalt  find  needle, 
and  patch  on  divers  colors,  —  yes,  shalt  cut  off  a  piece 
of  this  crimson  doublet,  and  sew  it  upon  thee,  for  I  am 
done  with  my  crimson  doublet,  alas !  But  thou  shalt 
carry  one  piece  of  it  as  a  souvenir.  Come,  then,  little 
sister,  let  us  forage.  It  grows  toward  day.  The  timid 
Netherlanders  will  return  in  the  daylight,  and  finding  no 
company  of  Spaniards,  but  only  a  Frenchman  and  a 
maid,  will  drive  us  forth  with  amazing  courage." 

It  did  not  take  them  long  to  find  all  that  they  required. 
Poor  Anna's  beautiful  hair  was  cut  short  and  burned  in 
the  fireplace.  Her  dress  was  deformed  with  knife  and 
needle,  torn  here,  patched  there  in  some  homely  color. 
There  were  wooden  shoes  upon  her  feet,  stuffed  with 
pieces  of  Belle-Isle's  crimson  doublet,  since  they  were 
too  large  for  her.  An  ugly  drab-colored  cloth  was 

262 


PREPARING    FOR    ADVENTURES 

wrapped  about  her  head  in  lieu  of  a  bonnet,  hiding 
nearly  all  her  face.  The  young  man  blackened  his 
fingers  in  the  ashes,  and  took  pleasure  in  touching  her 
up  to  the  proper  degree  of  grime,  smearing  her  hands 
and  wrists,  daubing  her  cheeks  with  lampblack. 

Anna  endured  all  patiently.  "  My  poor  hair!  "  she 
exclaimed  when  it  was  cut  away.  "  My  dear  mother  was 
very  proud  of  it."  This  was  the  only  sign  of  emotion 
she  gave  during  her  transformation  into  a  beggar-maid. 
Belle-Isle  continued  to  talk  in  a  light,  uninterrupted 
flow.  He  had  grown  fond  of  the  "  little  child,"  and  he 
found  it  not  unpleasant  to  touch  her  cheek  and  brow 
with  his  blackened  finger ;  indeed,  he  felt  the  far-away 
beginning  of  a  thrill,  as  his  forefinger  rested  upon  her 
lips.  When  she  was  ready  for  her  part,  he  foraged  in 
the  larder  and  pantry,  and  succeeded  in  getting  together 
some  provisions  which  he  placed  in  a  bundle  containing 
a  few  necessities.  "  Now  we  are  ready !  I  would  that 
thou  couldst  see  thyself!  Really,  little  Bluemask,  thou 
art  the  most  disconsolate  figure  imaginable.  What  part 
of  thy  child's  face  is  exposed  to  view,  is  so  blurred  and 
besmirched  —  by  Belle-Isle  !  no  man  will  ever  give  thee 
a  second  look.  And  that  sagging  drab-colored  shawl 
and  dress,  and  those  wooden  shoes  !  By  Belle-Isle !  I 
should  never  go  a  step  with  thee  if  I  did  not  know  the 
truth,  while  thy  clothes  give  the  world  the  lie." 

She  gave  a  wan  smile.  "  Who  is  Belle-Isle  ?  "  she  asked 
listlessly,  as  they  hurried  to  the  door.  "  Thou  saidst  he 
is  no  saint." 

"  He  is  no  saint  as  yet,"  answered  the  Frenchman. 
263 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  But  he  is  my  very  best  friend,  and  I  love  him.  Little 
beggar,  if  them  wouldst  ever  enter  into  my  very  heart, 
call  on  old  Norman  —  that  is  the  key.  Now,  first  to  the 
wooden  glove !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Norman,  please,  Norman,  let  me  never  see 
that  place  again  !  " 

"  It  cannot  be  helped,  child.  But  thou  shalt  stay 
below.  My  change  of  clothes  is  there  in  my  wardrobe 
of  the  little  finger." 

"  Yes,  I  will  wait  for  thee  at  the  foot  of  the  sign-post," 
said  Anna. 

The  streets  were  now  flooded  with  light,  for  the  moon 
was  high.  Seeking  what  protection  the  shadows  might 
give,  they  reached  the  glover's  house.  Leaving  the  girl 
below,  the  young  man  ascended,  grateful  for  the  deserted 
square,  since  his  form  was  sharply  defined  as  it  slipped 
along  the  wall.  He  gained  the  huge  glove,  and  as  he  took 
down  his  bag,  memories  came.  The  last  time  he  had 
passed  the  night  in  this  airy  nest,  his  soul  had  been  illu- 
minated with  the  love  of  Rosamunda.  Now  he  felt  for 
her  a  scorn  that  had  turned  out  that  light.  He  took  off 
the  crimson  doublet  and  the  flesh-colored  hose  with  a 
sigh ;  he  would  see  them  no  more.  Soon  he  was  dressed 
in  the  rags  of  his  beggar's  disguise.  He  rolled  up  his 
masquerade  garments,  and  stuffed  them  into  the  hollow 
of  the  thumb.  But  he  thrust  the  sword,  secure  in  its 
scabbard,  into  the  bag.  People  would  wonder  at  this 
object.  Still,  a  beggar  could  not  go  about  with  a  sword 
at  his  side,  neither  could  he  protect  a  maiden  without 
one.  He  wrapped  the  bag  tightly  about  the  weapon, 

264 


PREPARING    FOR    ADVENTURES 

then  weighed  it  in  his  hands  doubtfully.  If  any  one 
demanded  an  explanation  of  the  singular  parcel,  what 
then?  He  could  not  say  that  he  walked  upon  his  com- 
mon staff,  and  carried  his  Sunday  staff  for  holiday  use. 
It  must  not  be  a  staff.  And  here  was  the  little  red 
mask  which  had  rested  upon  Rosamunda's  face.  What 
was  she  to  him  now?  He  sat  upon  the  edge  of  the 
structure,  his  legs  dangling,  and  tore  up  the  red  mask, 
letting  the  little  pieces  rain  down  upon  Anna. 

"  Now,  away,  away,"  he  said,  when  he  stood  beside  Anna. 
"  Soon  the  city  gates  will  be  opened.  Let  us  linger  near 
the  northern  gate  —  that  way  is  Holland  and  thy  par- 
ents. But  look,  Anna,  what  wouldst  thou  suppose  to  be 
wrapped  up  in  this  bag?  " 

"  Thy  sword,"  she  answered  promptly. 

"  Why?"  he  asked,  with  a  fallen  countenance. 

"  Because  I  see  thy  sword  no  other  place,  Norman." 

"  But  suppose  thou  didst  not  know  I  own  a  sword. 
Then  what  wouldst  suppose  in  the  bag?  " 

"  I  would  suppose  thou  hadst  procured  thee  a  sword." 

"  But  child,  what  would  an  old  beggar  do,  buying  a 
sword  ?  " 

"  But  thou  art  no  old  beggar,  Norman." 

"  By  Belle-Isle !  "  exclaimed  the  Frenchman  impa- 
tiently, "  thou  hast  no  more  fancy  than  a  schoolman. 
What  if  thou  sawest  me  for  the  first  time,  thinking  me 
an  old  man,  then,  then,  child,  what  wouldst  suppose  in 
this  bag?" 

"  Be  not  displeased  with  me,  Norman,"  she  answered 
timidly.  "  How  can  I  tell  what  I  might  think,  if  I  were 

265 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

somebody  else?  Being  only  myself,  I  can  think  only 
my  thoughts,  and  they  are  that  it  is  a  sword  in  the 
bag." 

"  Let  it  be  a  sword  then,  in  heaven's  name !  "  said  the 
other  ruefully.  "  But,  child,  I  tell  thee  this ;  such 
directness  of  ideas,  as  if  thy  every  conception  moves 
upon  a  straight  line,  will  make  an  end  of  all  my  joy." 

"  Oh,  Norman,  thou  canst  not  mean  to  desert  me  !  "  she 
asked  with  sudden  fear. 

"  I  know  not,"  he  answered  gloomily.  "  Thou  hast 
everything  to  make  thee  happy.  Thou  no  longer  lovest 
Enrique,  so  that  grief  is  at  an  end ;  I  have  promised  to 
restore  thee  to  thy  parents,  so  there  is  comfort.  And 
all  I  ask  of  thee  is  a  lighter  lift  of  thy  mind.  I  will  do 
anything  for  thee,  little  Bluemask,  provided  I  enjoy  the 
thing  while  doing  it  But,  by  Belle-Isle !  I  will  not 
bind  my  mind  down  to  the  earth,  and  clamp  iron  hoops 
about  my  soul  for  anybody's  sorrows." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  Norman,"  she  said,  the  tears  rushing 
to  her  eyes,  so  that  she  put  up  her  hand  to  brush  away 
the  blinding  mist,  "  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  keep  thee 
happy.  Norman,  I  did  not  think  thou  couldst  speak  so 
—  so  sorrowfully." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  he  answered,  still  indignant.  "  Thou 
comest  like  a  black  cloud  over  the  sun  of  my  happiness 
so  soon  as  it  begins  to  peep  forth  at  the  world  !  Now 
here  is  this  bag;  I  asked  thee  what  it  looked  to  contain. 
'  A  sword,'  thou  insistest.  I  implore  thee  for  another 
word.  '  A  sword,  a  sword,'  thou  clamorest." 

"  Norman,  I  will  do  better ;  I  will  not  weary  thee  with 

266 


PREPARING  FOR  ADVENTURES 

my  sorrow.  I  will  laugh  when  I  can.  See,  Norman,  I 
smile  for  thee,  — is  that  not  some  little  comfort?  And 
as  for  the  bag,  it  sticks  forth  at  either  end  so  straight 
and  hard,  I  know  well  what  I  might  think  if  it  were  the 
dead  of  winter  —  that  it  contained  some  frozen  snake 
thou  hadst  picked  up  upon  the  way." 

Norman  Belle-Isle's  manner  instantly  changed.  "  Now 
this  is  better,"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "  Perchance  the 
folk  we  meet  will  think  it  one  of  last  winter's  frozen 
vipers  left  over,  and  cheap  upon  the  market.  Oh,  thou 
little  Bluemask !  But  the  smile  was  sweet,  for  all  thy 
wooden  shoes  and  drab-colored  vestments." 

"  But  Norman,"  she  said,  seeking  a  light  tone,  "  one 
does  not  smile  with  one's  shoes." 

"  I  know  not,"  he  answered,  pleased  at  her  endeavor 
to  obey  his  wish.  "  I  never  saw  a  lovely  maiden  smile 
yet,  but  her  feet  in  some  manner  seemed  mixed  up  in 
the  effort." 

"  That  is  a  great  mystery,"  she  said  in  wonder.  "  But 
dost  thou  think  me  a  lovely  maiden?" 

"  I  think  thee  a  foolish  child,"  he  answered  hastily. 
"  And  if  thou  couldst  see  thyself,  loveliness  would  not 
enter  thy  mind.  Such  a  wretched,  bedraggled  picture 
it  would  be  hard  to  parallel." 

"  Then  I  must  look  somewhat  as  thou,"  she  observed. 
They  reached  the  city  wall  and  sought  the  lodge  where 
those  who  came  to  the  gate  before  its  opening  found  a 
resting-place.  The  light  from  a  candle,  set  in  the  wall, 
fell  upon  them.  Anna  sought  the  corner  of  a  high- 
backed  bench,  and  soon  was  fast  asleep.  The  obnoxious 

267 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

drab-colored  shawl  fell  upon  her  shoulder,  revealing  the 
irregular  short  hair. 

Belle-Isle  regarded  her  from  shorn  crown  to  wooden 
shoes,  and  nodded  his  head  cheerfully.  "  There  is  no 
danger  here  of  sentiment,"  he  muttered.  "  Now  this  is 
the  greatest  adventure  that  Belle-Isle  ever  ran  into  with 
open  eyes.  To  tramp  the  country  with  a  pretty  girl,  and 
yet  not  fall  in  love  with  her !  By  my  sword  !  I  never 
thought  to  brother  any  pretty  girl  until  we  all  be  brothers 
and  sisters  in  heaven.  Pooh !  She  is  a  mere  child.  Her 
arms  have  the  leanness  of  childhood,  and  there  are  bones 
in  her  neck,  ay,  bones,  by  Belle-Isle  !  And  yet  she  is  not 
so  much  a  child,  either.  I  am  glad  her  hair  is  burned  up 
—  poor  thing !  I  am  glad  her  shawl  is  drab-colored  ; 
I  hate  drab  color,  and  it  seems  to  override  all  the  other 
colors  of  her  garments.  I  am  glad  her  shoes  are 
wooden,  and  so  much  too  big  for  her.  I  am  glad  of 
everything.  Poor  Rodrigo ! "  he  added  putting  his 
hand  upon  the  dagger  as  it  lay  securely  hidden  under 
his  rags.  "What  did  I  say  to  thee?  All  ends  well  — 
if  not  for  thee,  for  another!" 


268 


BOOK  IL     ROSAMUND  A 

Chapter    One 

ROSAMUND  A' S  CHOICE 

WHEN  Rosarnunda  first  became  conscious  of 
the   world,    a   beautiful  young  face  bent 
over  her,  a  black  veil  concealing  the  hair. 
To  that  face  belonged  gentle  hands  and  a 
lap  ever  ready  to  hold  the  little  girl  who  found  the  world 
so  strange.     There   were  other  faces,   always  faces  of 
women,  but  they  were  neither  fair  nor  young,  and  their 
stern  look  caused  her  to  give  her  first   friend  that  com- 
plete adoration  known  only  to  a  child  whose  telescope 
has  not  yet  found   spots  in   the  sun.      Sister  Mala   was 
sixteen ;    but  Rosarnunda,  judging  with  the   relentless 
inaccuracy  of  youth,   thought  her  very  old. 

Those  others  were  sisters,  and  it  was  well  they  called 
each  other  "  Sister,"  for  how  else  could  a  little  girl 
know  they  loved  one  another?  For  their  lives  did  not 
give  forth  the  fragrance  of  gentle  words  and  kind 
smiles.  Rosamunda  knew  there  was  a  time  before 
Sister  Mala  and  the  stern-faced  women  in  black,  a 
time  when  there  was  no  little  stone  cell  with  iron  bars 
at  the  high  slit  of  a  window,  no  iron  bed,  no  cold 

269 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

floors.  Did  she  remember  a  stern  silent  man?  And 
a  woman's  tender  eyes?  Perhaps  that  was  Sister  Mala. 
But  the  man? 

One  day  Rosamunda  said,  "  Sister  Mala,  wast  thou 
always  before  I  was?  " 

Sister  Mala  kissed  her  softly.  "  What  wouldst  thou 
say,  little  darling?  " 

"  Who  was  that,  that  time?  "  And  Rosamunda  looked 
up  wistfully  into  the  large  brown  eyes.  "  She  looked  as 
thou  lookest  now." 

"  Thy  mother,  perhaps."    And  Sister  Mala  sighed. 

"Was  the  other  my  father?  " 

"Thy  father  is  Sen  or  Gonzalvo  de  Oviedo  y  Varrez. 
Canst  say  so  long  a  name,  little  sweetheart?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  child;   "  I  am  afraid  of  that  man." 

"  Afraid  ?  But  little  girls  love  their  fathers,  even  when 
they  are  unkind  and  make  them  take  the  veil.  It  is 
because  they  love  the  good  God  and  give  him  their 
dearest  sacrifice.  It  was  so  with  Abraham.  Yet  it  did 
not  pleasure  the  dear  Lord  to  take  away  his  child." 

"Does  everybody  live  in  a  convent?" 

"  Oh,  no,  there  are  beautiful  houses  with  soft  carpets 
and  warmth  all  the  time,  and  so  much  to  eat !  Flowers 
grow  about  the  walls,  and  girls  and  boys  run  and  laugh, 
and  darling  mothers  look  from  the  window — "  Sister 
Mala  sobbed. 

"  Oh,  Sister  Mala !  let  us  go  to  that  place  and  stay 
forever." 

This  restored  the  other  to  reason.  "  Dear  comfort, 
thou  art  to  stay  here  until  thy  father  comes  for  thee. 

270 


ROSAMUNDA'S    CHOICE 

And  I  am  to  stay  until  I  die,  for  I  am  the  good  God's 
virgin." 

"  Would  the  good  God,"  Rosamunda  crossed  herself 
with  her  tiny  hand,  "  be  sorry  to  have  thee  playing 
in  the  flowers,  with  thy  mother  looking  from  the 
window?  " 

"Indeed,  yes,  sweetheart.  The  more  I  give  up,  the 
better  God  is  pleased." 

"  Sister  Mala,  is  God  happy?  " 

"  How  can  he  be  happy,  little  comfort,  when  men  are 
so  wicked?  " 

"  Then  I  see  no  use  in  being  God,  if  he  can't  be 
happy,"  remarked  the  young  theologian. 

"  My  little  darling  —  "  began  Sister  Mala. 

Then  came  the  sharp  voice  of  the  abbess :  "  Sister 
Mala !  Why  these  sinful  endearing  terms  of  human 
affection  ?  I  fear  I  was  unwise  to  entrust  her  soul  to  thy 
care." 

"  I  will  do  so  no  more,"  faltered  the  girl  in  an  agony 
of  fear  lest  her  charge  be  taken  away.  After  that,  no 
one  called  Rosamunda  by  a  sweet  name,  but  though  dis- 
cipline silenced  the  lips,  the  child  read  "  darling  "  in 
Sister  Mala's  eyes. 

When  Rosamunda  was  older  she  said,  "  What  a  lovely 
name  is  thine  !  " 

"  Alas,  Rosamunda,  thou  dost  not  know  that  Mala 
means  '  Evil.' " 

"Then  who  named  thee  Mala?"  cried  the  other 
fiercely.  "  Who  called  thee  Evil  ?  " 

"  Hush,  Rosamunda !  The  abbess  gave  me  my  new 

271 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

name  to  remind  me  that  I  was  born  in  sin.  Sometimes 
I  forget  it ;  I  am  so  young." 

"  Young,  Sister  Ma  —  but  I  will  not  call  thee  Mala. 
Thou  art  not  wicked,  thou  art  sweetheart,  darling,  and 
dear  comfort." 

Sister  Mala  pressed  her  passionately  to  her  bosom. 
"  Thou  hast  remembered  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  I  know  what  thou  callest  me  in  thy  heart,"  said 
Rosmunda  with  a  smile  !  "  But  when  no  one  is  listening, 
I  will  give  thee  the  sweetest  name  I  ever  heard.  And 
that  is  Josephine." 

"  Josephine?     Whence  this  name?  " 

"  The  mother  abbess  spoke  it  last  night,  and  a  memory 
leaped  up  like  a  flame  in  my  brain ;  but,  like  a  flame,  it 
sank  and  went  out.  I  must  have  known  it  once." 

During  those  days  Rosamunda  and  Sister  Mala  slept 
together.  One  night  when  an  iron  window-bar  cut  the 
big  moon  in  two,  little  Rosamunda  woke  and  was  glad 
of  the  friendly  light.  The  heat  of  the  August  night  pen- 
etrated even  the  massive  walls  of  the  convent.  The  little 
girl  threw  aside  the  covering  and  held  up  her  toes  that 
their  shadows  might  dance  upon  the  whitewashed  wall. 
Then  she  noticed  the  perspiration  upon  the  fair  face  of 
her  sleeping  friend. 

"  Poor  Sister  Josephine  is  asleep  and  does  n't  know  all 
that  cover  is  heaped  upon  her,"  she  thought.  She  put 
her  little  hand  under  the  hot  cheek  and  felt  the  moisture 
upon  the  pillow.  "  But  I  will  make  Sister  Josephine 
cool,"  and  gently  she  drew  the  cover  away.  Sister  Mala's 
coarse  gown  was  buttoned  tight  about  her  neck.  "  That 

272 


is  for  penance ;  but  if  I  unfasten  it,  and  draw  it  back,  — 
so  j  —  God  won't  care,  because  she  won't  know  she  is 
happy."  Rosamunda  with  a  little  smile  of  loving  mis- 
chief unfastened  the  heavy  garment,  and  sat  up,  the 
better  to  slip  it  down  from  over  the  smooth  white  shoul- 
ders. And  the  next  moment  she  gave  alow  cry;  for 
the  bared  back  was  bruised  with  many  wounds,  some  so 
recent  that  flecks  of  blood  stained  the  gown.  The  child 
stared  with  horror  at  the  mutilated  back,  and  was  afraid. 
She  put  back  the  garment,  her  fingers  trembling  so  she 
could  scarcely  button  it  again.  And  then  she  sobbed 
herself  to  sleep.  Who  had  hurt  her  Sister  Josephine?  . 

Sometimes  Sister  Mala  did  not  come  to  bed  till  long 
after  Rosamunda  was  asleep.  When  she  was  older,  the 
child  became  curious  to  know  the  reason.  One  night 
when  she  had  lain  waiting  a  long  time  and  her  friend  did 
not  come,  the  child  dressed  quickly  and  slipped  into  the 
corridor.  The  cell  doors  stood  open,  the  cells  were 
deserted,  but  no  chanting  was  to  be  heard  from  the  con- 
sistory. With  numbed  feet  she  slipped  along  the  pave- 
ment to  the  chapel.  No  one,  nothing  was  there  but  the 
huge  Crucifix,  looking  awful  as  the  lighted  tapers  showed 
the  tragic  face. 

Oh,  where  had  the  nuns  gone?  Where  was  the  only 
face  that  ever  wore  a  smile  for  her,  —  Sister  Josephine, 
upon  whose  sad  face  so  often  blossomed  for  her  arose  of 
welcome  ?  The  cells  were  filled  with  mysterious  breath- 
ings ;  the  tapers  glowed  like  ghosts  of  dead  cheer ;  the 
Blessed  Virgin  seemed  to  move  her  neck  to  watch  the 
solitary  form.  With  a  heart  throbbing  with  dread, 
18  273 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Rosamunda  slipped  to  the  stone  steps  leading  down  to 
the  crypt.  There  came  to  her  from  below  echoes  as  of 
laughter.  Her  heart  leapt  to  meet  the  sound  of  mirth ; 
had  the  nuns  gone  down  there  to  hide  their  happiness 
from  God  ?  When  she  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps,  she 
realized  that  the  voices  cried  out,  not  in  laughter,  but  in 
agony.  Trembling,  she  shrank  away ;  oh,  to  be  back  in 
her  little  cell,  undiscovered !  But  at  that  moment  the 
huge  door  leading  into  the  crypt  was  flung  open,  and 
there  stood  the  mother  abbess. 

"  Rosamunda  ! "  she  cried  hastily.  Then  her  indecision 
changed  to  cold  resolve.  "  After  all,  it  is  time  for  thee 
to  understand.  Come  !  "  She  caught  the  child's  arm  and 
almost  dragged  her  into  the  crypt.  At  one  end  of  the 
apartment  was  a  platform  upon  which  ten  nuns  were 
singing  penitential  hymns  in  Latin.  Before  them  stood 
the  others,  naked  to  the  waist,  each  holding  a  scourge. 
They  were  lashing  each  other  upon  back  and  bosom  in 
a  devout  ecstasy  of  pious  zeal.  Rosamunda  could  not 
understand  that  they  were  averting  the  wrath  of  God  by 
anticipating  his  punishment.  All  she  could  comprehend 
were  the  poor  old  bodies  bruised  and  bleeding,  the  mis- 
shapen bony  frames,  the  shrieks  at  each  downfall  of  the 
terrible  scourges,  the  glistening  in  the  eyes  as  they  dealt 
a  blow  to  the  next  for  every  blow  received.  Rosa- 
munda's  gaze  fell  upon  Sister  Mala,  naked  like  the  rest, 
shrinking  under  her  punishment.  A  wild  scream  burst 
from  her  throat,  and,  tearing  away  from  the  abbess,  she 
darted  forward  and  threw  her  arms  about  her  friend. 

"  Wicked  woman !  "  she  cried  to  the  nun  whose  bare 

274 


ROSAMUNDA'S    CHOICE 

arm  was  poised  to  bring  down  the  scourge  upon  Sister 
Mala's  back.  She  burst  into  a  passion  of  grief  while 
the  pale  face  of  her  friend  drooped  over  her  in  silence. 
The  Latin  hymn  was  interrupted,  the  scourges  rested. 
The  nuns  seemed  abashed  before  that  little  witness. 
Each  took  a  comfort  in  the  mere  presence  of  the  child 
in  the  convent,  for  the  sight  of  her  was  the  only  tender 
part  in  their  lives.  It  had  pleased  them  to  think  of  the 
little  one  as  unconscious  of  their  sufferings.  Now  she 
saw  them  bleeding  and  cruel,  —  would  she  hate  them 
henceforth  ? 

The  mother  abbess  tore  Rosamunda  from  her  friend, 
and  hurried  her  up  to  her  cell.  The  old  woman  seated 
herself  upon  the  bed,  and  tried  to  point  a  moral  to  the 
scene  in  the  crypt.  But  when  she  began  to  speak, 
Rosamunda  thought  of  Sister  Mala  bowing  under  the 
scourge.  "  Oh,  my  Sister  Josephine,  my  sweetheart, 
my  dear  comfort !  "  she  wailed.  "  Go  away,  I  hate 
thee  !  They  are  hurting  my  Sister  Josephine,  who  never 
harmed  any  one.  And  I  will  not  call  her  Mala,  for  she 
is  not  evil,  but  thou  art  wicked  to  let  them  beat  her." 

The  mother  abbess  waited  for  this  storm  to  subside, 
then  spoke  coldly.  "  Child,  I  must  open  thy  mind 
(born  in  sin)  to  the  truth.  Thou  art  old  enough  to 
think  upon  sorrows,  and  whatever  in  this  world  is  not  a 
sorrow  is  a  sin.  There  are  those  who  call  themselves 
Carmelites  who  lead  easy  lives.  But  I  thank  the  aus- 
tere and  blessed  Virgin,  I  belong  to  the  strictest  sect, 
restored  to  severe  piety  by  holy  St.  Theresa  —  whose 
soul  be  blessed !  Our  scourging  is  the  sweetest  sight 

275 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

the  eyes  of  the  blessed  saints  can  look  down  upon.  By 
our  stripes  the  wounds  of  the  Blessed  Saviour  are  healed. 
We  mortify  our  bodies  to  preserve  our  souls.  Every 
lash  laid  upon  our  sinful  flesh  is  a  prick  to  spur  the  soul 
upward.  Oh,  my  child,  learn  that  it  is  in  our  power  to 
save  ourselves !  Who  would  not  beat  himself  to  obtain 
salvation  ? 

"  It  is  four  hundred  years  since  the  most  blessed  St. 
Berthold  of  Calabria  built  a  chapel  on  Mount  Carmel 
where  Elias  disappeared.  Since  then  the  Carmelites 
have  worshipped  God  with  lash  and  rod.  It  was  Elias 
himself  who  formulated  our  code,  delivered  to  him  by 
angels  of  light.  His  disciples  were  Jonah  and  Micah ; 
and  when  Obadiah  left  King  Ahab's  court,  his  wife  took 
the  veil  from  the  blessed  hands  of  Elias  and  became  the 
first  abbess  of  the  Carmelites.  Wilt  thou  not  become 
one  of  us,  and  sit  with  us  in  Paradise?" 

"  No,  no,  no,  I  will  never  join  your  order !  "  cried  the 
child  passionately. 

"  As  to  that,"  returned  the  other  coldly,  "  it  depends 
upon  thy  father's  will.  An  he  say  '  Yea/  thou  shalt  join 
instantly  for  thy  soul's  salvation  !  " 

"But  why  must  our  backs  be  beaten?"  sobbed 
Rosamunda. 

"  When  we  mortify  our  hateful  bodies,  we  mortify  the 
sin  within  them." 

"  But  all  bodies  are  not  hateful.  Sister  Mala  is  beau- 
tiful. And  my  body  is  not  hateful ;  I  like  it !  " 

"  That  is  because  thou  art  a  child  of  Satan,  poor 
reprobate.  The  blessed  Son  of  God  bleeds  from  thet 

276 


ROSAMUNDA'S    CHOICE 

wounds  made  by  the  nails  in  his  palms  and  feet.  Think 
upon  him.  By  our  stripes  the  good  God  is  appeased." 

"  If  that  is  so,  mother,  I  do  not  like  God  very  well." 

The  mother  abbess  groaned.  "  Oh,  sinful  blindness 
in  entrusting  thee  to  young  Sister  Mala !  Thou  dost 
not  like  God?  Thou  shalt  have  neither  bite  nor  sup  till 
thou  dost  like  him  !  " 

The  next  day  Rosamunda  was  locked  up  in  her  cheer- 
less cell  that  she  might  learn  to  like  God.  When  even- 
ing dragged  to  a  close,  she  liked  him  less  than  ever. 
During  the  next  day  she  steeled  her  heart.  That  night 
when  her  jailer  came,  she  found  that  Rosamunda  still 
did  not  like  God  very  well.  The  next  day  came  a  letter 
preparing  the  abbess  for  the  coming  of  Rosamunda's 
father.  On  his  account  the  abbess  surrendered,  and 
Sister  Mala  was  sent  to  comfort  her  little  friend. 

"  Think  how  much  worse  it  might  be  !  "  holding  the 
child  upon  her  lap.  "  See  !  I  have  thee  to  love.  In  thy 
youth  I  become  young  again.  And  we  can  wander  out- 
side the  walls  and  breathe  the  mountain  air." 

"  But  there  is  no  grass,  Sister  Josephine,  and  all  we 
can  see  are  cruel  mountains,  shutting  out  the  world." 

"  No,  oh,  no !  Rosamunda,  can  we  not  see  each 
other?"  The  child  threw  her  arms  about  Sister  Mala's 
neck.  "  A  hundred  years  ago,  I  might  have  been  one 
of  the  Flagellantes.  Even  now  there  is  a  secret  order 
in  lower  Saxony." 

"What  are  Flagellantes?"  the  other  asked  in  an 
awed  voice. 

"  Devout  men  and  women,  who  used  to  travel  from 

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THE    HOLLAND    WO.LVES 

city  to  city  entirely  naked,  beating  themselves  with 
scourges.  The  Blessed  Pope  has  interdicted  the  cus- 
tom since  the  public  exposure  of  unclothed  bodies 
savors  of  unrighteous  pride.  Now  we  lash  ourselves  in 
secret.  That  is  why  I  say  it  might  be  so  much  worse. 
In  the  crypt  I  only  strip  to  the  waist,  and  down  there  I 
am  unashamed.  But  if  I  had  to  go  naked  along  the 
highway,  I  fear  false  shame  would  weigh  me  down. 
Some  are,  by  their  very  nature,  Flagellantes,"  she 
added  with  a  sigh. 

One  day  as  Rosamunda  stood  in  the  barren  plain 
which  sloped  toward  the  sandy  wastes  skirting  the 
mountains,  Sister  Mala  came  hastily  from  the  convent. 
The  child  pointed  toward  the  mountains  saying,  "  I  was 
looking  for  something  fresh  and  pretty;  I  should  not 
have  found  it  if  thou  hadst  not  brought  hither  thy 
smile.  But,  oh,  sweetheart!  Tears?" 

Sister  Mala  embraced  Rosamunda  and  still  tried  to 
smile,  saying,  "  Thy  father  is  here." 

"My  father?  Oh,  I  am  afraid!  Will  he  take  me 
away?  " 

"  I  know  not,  but  he  would  see  thee.  Kiss  me,  Rosa- 
munda." When  Sister  Mala  spoke  her  name  it  was  like 
a  caress.  When  the  child  saw  Senor  Gonzalvo  she 
knew  it  was  his  face  which  for  years  had  haunted  her 
with  vague  fears.  He  was  dressed  as  a  great  captain. 
He  examined  her  coldly,  leisurely,  then  turned  to  the 
abbess  :  "  Yes,  I  will  take  her."  That  was  his  greeting. 

Rosamunda  could  not  give  Sister  Mala  a  long  last 
look  because  tears  came  and  drowned  out  the  pale,  fair 

278 


ROSAMUNDA'S    CHOICE 

face.  And  the  nuns  kissed  her  good-bye,  —  even  the 
mother  abbess  !  Gonzalvo  took  her  up  before  him  upon 
his  great  war-horse,  and  she  wondered  if  the  animal 
minded  her  taking  such  a  liberty  as  sitting  upon  him,  and 
if  he  might  not  suddenly  throw  his  great  head  around 
and  seize  her  between  his  teeth.  After  many  days  of 
silent,  unhappy  association  with  her  father,  they 
reached  Salamanca,  and  drew  up  before  a  palace  whose 
frowning  front  chilled  her  heart.  She  thought  it  an- 
other convent. 

Gonzalvo  lifted  her  to  the  ground.  In  answer  to  his 
loud  knock  there  came  to  the  door  a  woman  of  thirty 
whose  face  had  once  been  beautiful.  But  now  she  was 
shrinking  and  wore  a  timid  look  as  if  she  longed  to  hide 
from  the  light.  Gonzalvo  stared  at  her  insolently. 
"Who  has  been  here  since  I  left?" 

"No  one,  Gonzalvo." 

"  We  shall  see,"  he  cried  roughly.  "  Melaga  will  tell 
me  the  truth.  Here  is  Rosamunda."  He  sprang  upon 
his  horse. 

The  woman  spoke  timidly:  "Wilt  thou  not  enter, 
Gonzalvo?  " 

"  I  must  to  England  with  Alva,  concerning  the  king's 
marriage  with  Queen  Mary.  For  months,  Isabella,  thou 
shalt  have  the  ruling  of  this  house.  People  may  come 
and  make  merry  since  I  cannot  be  here  to  forbid.  But 
remember,  —  there  is  always  Melaga  !  When  I  return, 
he  will  tell  me  all  that  has  happened  —  even  the  thoughts 
of  thy  head!" 

"  Gonzalvo !"  she  cried  in  terror,  "wilt  thou  never 

279 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

trust  me?  I  have  left  all  for  thee  —  and  my  people 
despise  me  for  thy  sake ;  yet  thou  wilt  believe  Melaga 
though  his  mouth  is  full  of  evil !  " 

"  See  that  his  evil  be  not  spoken  against  thee  !  "  cried 
Gonzalvo  with  a  bitter  laugh.  "  Remember,  Isabella  !  " 

And  he  was  gone  without  a  word  to  his  daughter. 
But  she  did  not  care;  she  feared  him.  His  silence,  his 
lowering  glance  were  eloquent  of  the  gloom  that  brooded 
over  his  soul.  Thus  Rosamunda  came  home.  Home? 
Even  when  she  was  eighteen,  the  palace  seemed  less  a 
home  than  the  grim  cell  of  the  Carmelite  nunnery.  At 
first  she  would  have  tried  to  make  friends  with  Isabella, 
but  there  was  always  Melaga,  —  an  old  Spaniard  with 
shifty  eyes,  a  lean,  brown  hand  and  a  noiseless  step. 
Ever  he  watched  Isabella  with  hate  and  suspicion,  and 
though  the  woman  taught  the  child  sewing,  embroidery, 
French,  English,  and  the  faith,  she  never  gave  her  pupil 
a  kind  word  —  or  a  glance  of  liking. 

During  those  years  she  saw  little  of  her  father.  She 
thought  he  hated  her ;  he  had  a  way  of  watching  her  out 
of  his  deep-set  eyes  that  made  her  blood  thrill  with  fear. 
When  he  addressed  her,  it  was  to  ask  about  Isabella's 
conduct  during  his  absence.  He  was  a  slave  to  suspi- 
cions, and  Melaga  with  the  cunning  of  one  who  makes 
his  living  by  ministering  to  another's  folly,  dropped  half- 
hints  that  kept  Isabella's  life  a  long  suspense.  The 
child  longed  to  ask  about  her  mother,  but  Gonzalvo's 
face  forbade  an  appeal,  and  she  could  not  ask  the 
woman  who  had  usurped  her  mother's  place. 

When  she  was  eighteen,  Melaga  offered  to  introduce 

280 


ROSAMUNDA'S    CHOICE 

her  into  society.  She  might  attend  fetes  and  laugh  with 
the  young;  her  father  made  but  one  condition:  she  was 
still  to  live  without  friends,  she  must  never  dream  of 
marriage. 

Rosamunda  had  always  taken  her  pleasures  with  a 
deal  of  vinegar. 

She  accepted  the  condition,  mingled  with  the  young 
and  gay,  and  learned  that  she  was  beautiful. 

One  night  on  returning  from  a  ball,  her  brain  still 
whirling  with  lights  and  laughter,  she  saw  before  the 
door  Gonzalvo's  great  war-horse.  Melaga,  who  always 
accompanied  her,  gave  a  quick  look,  and  the  crafty  gleam 
in  his  eyes  wrecked  in  one  blow  a  dream  of  happiness. 
In  the  reception-room  her  father  awaited  her,  his  arms 
folded,  his  brows  bent  gloomily. 

"  Rosamunda,"  he  said  abruptly,  ignoring  her  greet- 
ing, "  I  leave  soon  for  the  Low  Countries." 

She  wondered  that  he  should  explain  his  plans.  Her 
haughty  bearing  always  vanished  before  this  man.  The 
timid  obsequiousness  of  Isabella  and  her  own  solitary 
life  had  hardened  her  nature,  while  the  flattery  of  the 
gay  world  had  crystallized  her  pride.  Now  she  hated 
herself  because  any  one  could  humble  her  with  a  glance. 
But  Gonzalvo  was  greater  than  her  pride. 

"  I  know  not  when  I  shall  return,"  he  continued  in  his 
harsh  tones,  "  and  I  cannot  leave  thee  here  in  such  un- 
certainty." 

"  Yet,"  she  ventured,  "  I  have  seen  little  of  thee  in  the 
past." 

"  Then  let  it  be  that  I  will  not  leave  thee  here.  There 
281 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

are  wars  before  me,  and  I  may  leave  my  body  in  that 
accursed  land  of  heresy."  He  looked  at  her  as  if  medi- 
tating dark  plans.  "  I  will  not  leave  thee  here.  What 
sayest  thou  to  the  convent?" 

A  cry  of  despair  escaped  her  lips.  "  Oh,  father  !  do 
not  condemn  me  to  spend  my  life  in  —  in  —  " 

He  watched  her  with  a  smile,  as  if  gloating  upon  her 
unhappiness.  She  drooped  her  head.  At  last  he 
spoke :  "  No,  I  do  not  condemn  thee.  Come  as  my 
esquire  into  the  Low  Countries  and  carry  my  musket  to 
battle.  Thy  soldier's  garb  will  hide  the  secret  of  thy 
sex.  Out  in  the  world  it  is  not  known  that  I  have  a 
daughter,  —  Alva  thinks  me  a  merry  bachelor.  I  will 
break  the  news  of  an  unhappy  marriage  —  I  claim  my 
son  at  last :  '  This  is  my  Enrique,'  I  say,  '  my  son  and 
my  esquire.'  " 

Rosamunda  grew  white.     "  But,  father  —  " 

"  '  But '  means  the  convent.  Make  thy  choice.  In 
either  case  thou  wilt  pleasure  God  —  by  killing  heretics, 
or  by  lashing  thy  body." 

So  Rosamunda  chose  the  soldier's  uniform,  in  prefer- 
ence to  scourging  herself  in  cold  crypts  and  living  in  the 
company  of  gaunt,  silent  nuns.  Why  should  she  not  be 
a  man  to  the  world  !  Love  and  marriage  were  not  for 
her;  she  would  renounce  her  sex  and  be  Enrique  de 
Oviedo.  Thus  from  an  enforced  choice  she  came  to  the 
Netherlands  unconscious  of  a  Belle-Isle  in  all  the  world. 


282 


Chapter  Two 

ROSAMUNDA 'S  DREAM  OF  BELLE-ISLE 

ROSAMUNDA  came  to  the  Netherlands  with 
hatred    for    heresy,    and    with   no  pity    for 
ignorance.     She   believed  with  King  Philip 
that  there  was  but  one  remedy.     The  people 
had   been  presented  with  the   Inquisition  as   an  object 
lesson;   they  had  been  shown  signal  mercy,  since  the 
burning  of  heretics  had  been  softened  to  hanging;  but 
neither    education    nor    leniency   had    destroyed    their 
rebellious  hunger  for  liberty.     Even  avowed  Catholics 
connived    at   blasphemous    infidelity.      They   must   be 
crushed,  and  the  Duke  of  Alva  was  a  fit  scourge  for  the 
victims.     As  Rosamunda  looked  upon  the  sullen  faces 
of  the  inhabitants,  she  felt  that  the  time  of  the  Crusades 
had  come  again.     This  1567  would  be  written  in  history 
as  the  year  of  the  holy  modern  crusade. 

Nature  demanded  that  Rosamunda  should  love  some- 
thing, but  since  leaving  Sister  Mala  the  world  had  not 
given  her  one  friend.  She  shrank  from  association  with 
the  soldiers.  She  gave  her  religion  the  warmth  of  her 
heart,  and  the  world  had  its  coldness.  She  kissed  the 
feet  of  the  Crucifix  and  the  Saviour  felt  her  adoring  lips. 

283 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

She  knelt  before  the  image  of  the  Blessed  Mother  of 
God,  and  in  a  mysterious  sense  the  image  became  the 
living  Holy  Mary,  holding  out  hands  in  benediction. 
The  statues  of  the  saints  became  the  saints  themselves, 
as  she  gazed  upon  them,  and  she  loved  their  pure 
sweet  faces,  their  holy  feet,  which  had  trodden  paths  of 
martyrdom,  their  arms,  that  longed  to  embrace  her. 
One  ate  of  the  very  body  of  Christ;  and  of  his  blood, 
which  was  shed  day  after  day,  one  could  drink  and 
grow  strong  in  faith.  But  the  Netherlanders  were 
enemies  of  her  Saviour.  Now  thanks  to  the  good  God 
who  had  suffered  her  to  become  one  of  this  army  of 
vengeance  —  to  strike  for  Heaven  and  King  Philip  ! 

These  thoughts  were  in  her  mind  when  she  first  saw 
Belle-Isle  seated  in  Hendrik  Janssen's  cart.  In  Wilhel- 
mina  and  her  companions  she  recognized  true  Hol- 
landers ;  but  the  visage  of  Belle-Isle  startled  her,  for  he 
was  no  Netherlander.  There  was  that  in  his  handsome 
face,  tilted  toward  the  light,  that  moved  her  strangely. 
An  impulse  came  to  warn  him  of  the  danger  of  mingling 
with  doomed  heretics.  She  made  the  sign  of  the  cross. 
He  pointed  up  as  if  to  answer  that  he  relied  upon  God, 
not  upon  the  making  of  signs.  Alas !  was  he,  too,  a 
traitor?  Suddenly  she  became  conscious  that  her  father 
was  watching  her,  and  she  turned  her  eyes  away. 

Would  she  ever  see  him  again?  It  was  improbable. 
Would  she  think  of  him  again?  Ah,  yes;  try  as  she 
might,  she  could  not  banish  that  face,  that  form, 
instinct  with  manly  grace.  But  what  was  he  to  her? 
Something,  —  but  what?  He  was  so  unlike  other  men 

284 


ROSAMUNDA'S    DREAM 

—  there  was  such  a  sparkle  in  his  eye,  and  a  light  upon 
his  face  as  if  a  lamp  burned  always  in  his  soul !  There 
was  such  a  merry  shrewdness  in  the  curl  of  his  lip, 
such  a  gleam  in  his  curls!  His  image  grew  upon  her 
and  she  did  not  resist  its  domination.  But  when  she 
thought  of  him  she  grew  ashamed  of  her  disguise,  and 
feared  Gonzalvo  more  than  ever,  for  he  seemed  conscious 
of  a  change  in  her  life. 

That  night,  after  long  thinking  of  the  face  which  had 
become  the  beauty-spot  in  her  memory,  her  spirit  rose 
in  hot  revolt.  Her  father  was  feasting  at  Count 
Egmont's.  She  ventured  into  the  street  dressed  as  a 
woman,  conscious  of  the  great  risk  but  eager  for  the 
world  to  recognize  her  sex.  That  was  an  awful  mo- 
ment when  she  found  Gonzalvo  leading  some  boisterous 
soldiers  in  pursuit.  But  her  veil  and  dress  hid  her 
identity  and  Belle-Isle  saved  her  from  an  unknown  fate. 
Thus  once  more  she  saw  that  bright,  up-tilted  face,  that 
merry  smile,  that  form  of  grace  and  beauty.  She  heard 
his  flexible  voice,  but  all  that  night  her  mind  was 
haunted  by  the  terror  of  discovery.  She  saw  him 
through  her  mist  of  fear,  and  he  seemed  to  lack  the 
charm  of  her  dreams.  Thinking  she  should  never  meet 
him  again,  she  had  touched  up  the  memory  of  him  with 
the  perfect  art  of  fancy,  and  now  she  found  him  so 
different  from  her  thought.  Besides,  while  free  to  love 
his  image,  the  man  she  must  hold  as  a  stranger ;  so  she 
left  him  that  night  without  a  farewell. 

From  that  night  her  father  watched  her  with  a  darker 
brow,  for  he  knew  that  she  was  in  some  manner  changed. 

285 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Her  dreams  had  shifted ;  they  were  of  the  man  Belle- 
Isle,  as  he  was  in  the  flesh.  Gonzalvo  compelled  her  to 
make  love  to  Anna  van  der  Loren,  hinting  at  a  terrible 
fate  whenever  she  should  disobey  his  wishes.  This  fate 
to  which  he  referred  with  a  look  that  chilled  her  blood, 
forbade  even  a  dream  of  revolt.  When  she  fought  with 
Belle-Isle  she  longed  for  his  sword  to  pierce  her  heart. 
When  he  knelt,  holding  her  hand,  love  ran  through  her 
veins  like  a  laughing  flame.  When  he  came  as  the  old 
beggar,  how  gladly  she  would  have  given  up  her  state 
to  go  forth  with  him !  And  he  had  vanished  from 
her  life  with  that  terrible  "  I  hate  thee !  "  But  was  it 
not  better  that  he  should  hate,  since  marriage  was  not 
for  her?  "  Oh,  yes,  it  is  better!  "  she  whispered,  when 
living  that  night  again,  "  but — I  love  him."  And  the 
tears  would  come. 

She  wore  next  her  heart  the  note  Belle-Isle  had  sent 
by  Rodrigo.  She  often  drew  it  forth,  not  to  read  it 
since  it  was  known  by  heart,  but  to  kiss  it  as  if  it  could 
feel  the  passion  leaping  in  her  great  eyes ;  to  see  the 
lines  his  hands  had  traced ;  to  hold  the  paper  and  think 
how  his  touch  had  rested  there;  to  press  it  to  her 
cheek  and  imagine  that  he  had  breathed  upon  it  and 
his  breath  still  lingered  in  its  folds.  She  wondered 
what  had  been  his  sensations  while  addressing  her  —  if 
a  smile  had  played  about  his  mouth,  if  his  eyes  had 
grown  tender,  if  his  heart  had  swelled  toward  her  upon 
the  rushing  tide  of  love  which  had  caught  up  her  own 
soul,  bearing  it  far  beyond  her  control.  Life  grew 
dreamy.  Her  eyes  fell  upon  Gonzalvo's  stern  face 

286 


ROSAMUNDA'S     DREAM 

though  the  flashing  sunshine  of  Belle-Isle's  smile  filled 
her  eyes.  But  again  she  would  hear,  "  I  hate  thee  !  " 
and  his  voice  calling  her  in  accents  of  insult, '  Enrique  ! ' 
and  there  was  no  longer  sunshine.  Then  she  would 
press  his  note  to  her  lips  and  fancy  that  it  soothed 
her  pain  —  that  silent,  cold,  folded  sheet ! 

One  thought  cheered  her :  she  could  obey  a  wish  of 
Belle-Isle  ;  she  would  do  her  utmost  to  save  the  Janssens 
from  the  Inquisition.  But  with  what  caution  she  must 
move !  Scarcely  had  she  had  time  to  conceal  the 
note  brought  by  Rodrigo  when  Gonzalvo  came  upon 
them.  That  was  the  last  time  she  ever  saw  Rodrigo. 
Yes,  it  would  be  very  difficult  —  but  the  danger  would 
prove  her  love.  Chance  came  to  her  assistance.  The 
natural  son  of  the  Duke  of  Alva,  Don  Ferdinando  de 
Toledo,  Grand  Prior  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  had 
conceived  a  warm  liking  for  Count  Egmont.  Knowing 
Alva's  plans  to  accomplish  the  Count's  ruin,  Don  Ferdi- 
nando resolved  to  send  him  a  warning.  His  experienced 
eyes  separated  Rosamunda  from  her  associates,  and  he 
asked  her  to  be  his  messenger.  She  agreed  to  warn 
Egmont,  if  the  Grand  Prior  would  promise  to  do  his 
utmost  to  rescue  the  Janssens  when  they  should  come 
to  trial. 

Don  Ferdinando  stared  and  laughed.  "We  have 
two  errands  of  mercy  to  interchange,"  he  said.  "  So 
be  it;  I  will  save  them  if  I  can.  And  be  sure  thou 
tellest  Egmont  that  it  is  I  who  send  thee ;  show  him 
this  ring,  and  warn  him  that  if  he  be  found  in  Brussels 
to-morrow,  he  is  doomed." 

287 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Egmont,  still  trusting  in  Spanish  gratitude,  neglected 
that  warning  and  the  next  night  saw  the  beginning  of 
his  nine  months'  imprisonment.  The  news  of  his  arrest 
spread  consternation  throughout  the  land.  It  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  establishment  of  the  Council  of  Troubles, 
known  presently  as  the  "  Council  of  Blood."  All  other 
courts  were  abolished.  It  was  given  power  to  choose 
the  mode  of  punishment,  and  to  dispense  with  trials. 
The  prisons  became  so  overcrowded  that  it  was  con- 
venient to  try  all  the  inhabitants  of  a  town  at  a  single 
sitting.  Men  and  women  were  condemned  by  the  hun- 
dred, and  when  there  were  not  enough  headsmen,  the 
wretches  were  tied  back  to  back  and  drowned  in  the 
rivers.  When  Alva  found  this  wholesale  justice  insuffi- 
cient to  fill  the  king's  coffers,  he  pointed  out  that  the 
Catholics  owned  vast  riches.  Philip  thereupon  caused 
the  Holy  Office  to  launch  forth  the  most  comprehensive 
death-warrant  ever  promulgated  :  without  regard  to  sex, 
age,  or  faith,  all  inhabitants  of  the  Netherlands  were 
condemned  to  death. 

In  the  meantime  the  towns  had  been  garrisoned. 
Rosamunda  and  her  father  were  first  stationed  at 
Antwerp,  where  Pacheco  and  Gabriel  de  Cerbelloni 
were  building  the  great  citadel.  Later,  they  were  sent 
into  Holland  to  help  crush  the  growing  spirit  of  revolt. 
Months  passed  and  Rosamunda  heard  nothing  of  Belle- 
Isle.  She  mourned  as  for  a  dead  lover.  When  her 
father  encamped  in  the  open  fields,  she  occupied  an 
apartment  in  his  tent;  but  in  the  garrisons  she  could 
not  have  a  room  to  herself.  She  was  forced  to  endure 

288 


ROSAMUNDA'S    DREAM 

the  company  of  the  dissolute  soldiers.  They  thought 
her  sullen  and  morose.  Sometimes  they  called  her  the 
little  priest. 

It  was  a  terrible  life  to  a  sensitive  spirit.  Only  her 
cold  pride  enabled  her  to  endure  it  with  a  heart  un- 
broken. How  bright  there  shone  against  the  curtain  of 
her  mind  the  image  of  Belle-Isle  !  Her  hopeless  love 
was  the  only  light  in  her  life.  She  called  herself  his 
Rosamunda.  To  him  she  unlocked  her  heart  though 
he  could  not  enter.  The  throne  stood  ready,  but  the 
king  wandered  somewhere  in  the  world  without  his 
crown.  Strange,  that  he  could  not  hear  the  voice  of 
her  soul  calling !  Her  spirit  travelled  to  him  across  the 
spaceless  distances  of  love,  and  held  his  hand,  and 
whispered  in  his  curls.  Did  he  hear  her  silent  voice? 

The  year  had  not  travelled  far  into  its  spring,  when 
muttering  threats  of  war  seemed  to  rise  from  the  very 
ground.  William  of  Orange  was  in  Germany  raising  an 
army.  His  brothers,  Adolphus  and  Louis  of  Nassau, 
were  preparing  to  invade  the  provinces.  Count  Louis 
entered  Friesland  with  the  standard,  "  Recupemre  aut 
mart."  The  Dutch  rallied  about  him.  His  forces 
were  augmented  daily  by  peasants  unskilled  in  war. 

Alva,  infuriated  by  organized  resistance  while  the 
land  was  reeking  from  inquisitorial  executions,  sent 
Count  Aremberg  into  Friesland  against  Count  Louis. 
Aremberg  came  upon  the  enemy  at  Winschoten.  Here 
he  paused,  for  the  reinforcements  which  Meghem  should 
have  brought  had  not  arrived.  He  possessed  but  four 
hundred  cavalry,  in  which  division  rode  Gonzalvo,  fol- 
19  289 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

lowed  by  Rosamunda  as  his  esquire.  It  was  the  twenty- 
third  of  May,  1568,  nine  months  since  she  had  last  seen 
Belle-Isle.  But  that  day  of  the  first  great  battle  between 
the  Spaniards  and  the  Patriots  was  destined  to  bring 
Belle-Isle  and  Rosamunda  face  to  face. 


290 


Chapter  Three 

ROSAMUNDA   IN  BATTLE 

IN  the  vast  waste  of  watery  pasture  land,  the  patriot 
army  occupied  the  only  elevation.     Aremberg  led 
the  Spaniards  along  the  narrow  causeway  built 
through  the  swamps.     Rosamunda,    riding   close 
behind  Gonzalvo,  reflected  that  if  she  were  slain,  her 
body  would  'never  be  claimed,   and  she  would  escape 
that  dark  fate  concerning  which  her  father  sometimes 
hinted  with  a  look  that  tortured  her  heart.     She  would 
escape  all,  carrying  down  to  death  her  love  for  Belle-Isle. 
But  before  she  died,  God  grant  that  she  might  achieve  a 
deed  worthy  of  his  admiration,  —  strike  a  blow  for  God 
and  the  only  religion !     As  the  air  rang  with  the  tramp 
of  horse,  her  blood  was  stirred  to  wild  enthusiasm.     The 
saints  were  watching  to  see  if  she  would  help  sweep 
from  earth  the  curse  of  heresy. 

They  came  to  the  end  of  a  wood,  and  the  narrow  road 
stretched  on  through  bright  verdure  toward  the  monas- 
tery of  Heiliger  Lee.  The  height,  an  artificial  hill,  was 
occupied  by  the  rebels  in  two  squadrons.  Between  the 
two  armies  lay  the  lowlands  broken  only  by  the  cause- 
way. The  two  squares  of  the  Netherlanders  stood  im- 

291 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

movable.  At  first  sight  of  them  a  shout  burst  from  the 
Spaniards  in  which  Rosamunda  unconsciously  joined. 
The  furious  desire  to  sweep  forward  upon  the  heretical 
foe,  leapt  like  fire  from  breast  to  breast.  To  reach 
the  hill,  they  must  desert  the  causeway  and  traverse  the 
meadows.  Eyes  turned  to  Aremberg  in  entreaty,  the 
shouting  was  increased.  Here,  at  last,  were  armed  men 
to  attack  instead  of  women  and  helpless  old  men ;  they 
might  not  only  do  God  a  service,  but  win  some  glory  on 
their  own  account. 

Aremberg  ordered  his  six  cannons,  christened  "  Ut, 
Re,  Me,  Fa,  Sol,  La,"  beyond  the  cover  of  the  wood. 
Their  deep  booming  stirred  the  blood  to  a  fiercer  fever. 
A  body  of  light-armed  troops  against  which  the  shots 
had  been  directed,  wavered,  and  shout  after  shout  rang 
from  the  Spanish  army.  Officers  pressed  about  Arem- 
berg, urging  a  charge.  Not  a  shot  came  from  the 
enemy.  Aremberg,  harassed  by  his  officers,  exclaimed, 
"  The  Duke  has  given  me  express  orders  not  to  engage 
the  enemy  until  Meghem  brings  reinforcements." 

"  What  cares  Alva,"  exclaimed  De  Braccamonte,  "  so 
the  enemy  be  crushed?  Why  share  our  glory  with  those 
who  come  after  the  toil  is  over?" 

"  They  stand  yonder,  terror-stricken  !  "  insisted  Mar- 
tinengo.  "  See !  the  light-armed  troops  are  about  to 
flee." 

From  the  ranks  came  clamorous  voices :  "  Sacra- 
mento !  Santiago  !  Death  to  the  Beggars  !  " 

"  But  those  green  meadows  are  treacherous,"  cried 
Aremberg,  desperately. 

292 


ROSAMUNDA    IN    BATTLE 

"  Thou  art  a  stadtholder  of  this  province,"  said 
De  Braccamonte,  insolently.  "  Art  afraid  of  thine  own 
land?  We  Spaniards  are  not  afraid.  Hear  the  common 
soldiers !  " 

"  Let  Count  Aremberg  consider,"  exclaimed  Gonzalvo 
harshly,  "  that  if  he  hesitate  to  lead  us  to  certain  vic- 
tory, it  may  well  be  suspected  he  is  in  league  with  his 
countrymen !  " 

At  that  moment  the  cannons  belched  flame  and  the 
light-armed  troops  of  Louis  fled  over  the  height  of 
Heiliger  Lee. 

"It  is  because  I  know  this  country,"  said  Aremberg 
with  an  angry  flush,  "  and  because  I  am  faithful  to 
Alva— " 

"  They  flee  !  "  cried  the  soldiers.  "  In  God's  name, 
why  do  we  stand  like  fools  when  our  victims  are  ready? 
Death  to  the  Beggars !  "  There  was  an  irrepressible 
movement  forward. 

"Your  lordship,"  said  De  Braccamonte,  laying  his 
gloved  hand  upon  Aremberg's  arm,  "  hesitate,  and 
your  lordship  will  be  trampled  down  by  your  own 
cavalry." 

"  Then  let  it  be  a  charge,"  groaned  Aremberg ;  "  but 
God  pity  us  all !  " 

The  Spaniards  rushed  forward  leaving  the  cannons 
unmanned.  Aremberg  waited  with  a  reserve  force, 
among  which  were  Gonzalvo  and  Rosamunda.  The 
latter  sat  her  horse  with  bated  breath,  her  naked  sword 
grasped  in  her  hand,  ready  to  spur  into  the  thick  of 
battle  under  the  especial  protection  of  Heaven.  She  had 

293 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

already  delivered  the  musket  to  Gonzalvo,  who  sat  mut- 
tering curses  upon  his  enforced  inactivity. 

The  Spaniards  had  cleared  more  than  half  the  space 
which  separated  the  armies,  and  were  thundering  tow- 
ard the  foot  of  the  hill  with  a  hoarse  unbroken  yell 
of  hate,  when  suddenly  the  entire  vanguard  half  van- 
ished from  sight.  A  groan  burst  from  Aremberg  while 
those  about  him  stared  as  if  looking  upon  a  miracle. 
But  the  Count  knew  what  had  happened.  In  the  great 
holes  left  by  the  removal  of  huge  squares  of  peat, 
water  had  collected.  A  green  scum  forming  upon  the 
malarious  pools  resembled  fatally  the  short  vegetation 
growing  down  to  the  margins.  With  that  yell  of  hate 
the  army  had  plunged  into  the  death-trap.  Man  and 
horse  fought  desperately  in  the  unstable  mire  of  the 
fen,  while  the  coating  of  green  scum,  beaten  to  shreds, 
showed  black  water  closing  over  gilded  armor. 

Now  at  last  the  two  squares  of  the  enemy  moved. 
The  smaller  vanished  over  the  hill,  as  if  to  escape  the 
sight  of  horror ;  but  the  larger  rushed  down  the  slope 
to  the  edge  of  the  quagmire.  The  horses  of  the  Span- 
iards uttered  fearful  screams  as  they  plunged  in  the 
pools,  grinding  underfoot  those  troopers  who  sought 
to  cling  to  their  necks.  Those  not  hopelessly  disabled 
by  the  gelatinous  mass  that  sucked  at  every  foot  touch- 
ing it,  threw  away  cuirasses,  helmets,  gauntlets;  but 
when,  freed  from  armor,  they  struggled  out  of  the  pit- 
falls, the  Pikemen  of  Friesland  pushed  them  back  into 
watery  graves,  or  crushed  their  skulls. 

Count  Aremberg  gave  the  command  to  spur  for- 

294 


ROSAMUNDA    IN    BATTLE 

ward  to  the  rescue.     How  eagerly  that  command  had 
been    anticipated,  and    with  what   dull    hopelessness  it 
was    obeyed !      Rosamunda,    white    with    horror,    kept 
near  Gonzalvo,  her   eyes  fascinated    by  the    scene    of 
death    and    carnage.      But    the    advance    was    checked 
when  the  smaller  square  of  the  enemy  fell  upon  their 
rear.     Led  by  Louis  of  Nassau,  it  had  made  a  detour 
of  the    hill.      In    an    agony    of   indecision,  Aremberg 
called  a  halt.     De  Braccamonte,  seeing  death  on  either 
hand,  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  fled,  followed  by  his 
vandera.     His  example  proved  infectious.     A  rout  be- 
gan.    A  great  shout  rose  from  the  enemy  in  the  rear, 
"  Freedom    for    Fatherland    and    Conscience !  "      The 
pikemen,  never    pausing   in    their    ghastly  work  along 
the  swamp  pits,  answered,  "  Long  live  the  Beggars !  " 
In  the  Netherlands,  Liberty  had  at  last  found  a  voice 
and  a  sword.    Aremberg  sat  his  horse  like  a  figure  of 
stone;  flight  meant  for  him    either  disgrace  or  death. 
That  vanguard  of  his  which  had    never    known  defeat 
was  offering  its  diminished  strength  against  Adolphus. 
"  Who  is  with  me?  "  cried  Aremberg.    "Who  will  die 
for  God  and  the  king?  "     He  dashed  toward  the  conflict 
followed  by  only  twenty  horsemen,  among  whom  rode 
Gonzalvo  and  his  esquire.     Before  they  could  come  up, 
Adolphus  had  put  the  vanguard  to  flight.     Recognizing 
the  leader  of  the  onrushing  cavalry,  Adolphus  selected 
twenty  horsemen  to  oppose  them,  ordering  the  rest  of 
his  squadron  to  complete  the  work  at  the  swamp-pits. 
Horse  to  horse,  they  met  as  if  the  days  of  chivalry  in  all 
their  splendid  folly  had  come  again. 

295 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Rosamunda  found  herself  opposed  by  a  burly  trooper 
who,  as  he  dashed  forward,  aimed  a  musket  at  her 
breast.  She  spurred  her  horse  to  a  run,  and  swept 
toward  him  like  the  wind,  while  he  checked  his  speed  to 
make  his  aim  sure.  Just  as  his  weapon  rang  out  she 
swerved  aside.  At  the  same  moment  Adolphus  fired 
his  pistol  at  Aremberg.  Rosamunda  and  her  captain 
were  uninjured.  Her  horse  had  not  slackened  his  speed, 
and  scarcely  had  the  trooper  fired  when  she  was  upon 
him ;  her  sword  found  his  heart  and  in  her  impetus  it  was 
wrenched  from  her  hand.  He  fell  to  the  ground  with 
her  sword  through  his  body.  Weaponless  she  wheeled 
in  a  wide  circle,  and  returned  to  the  battle  in  time  to 
see  Adolphus  fall  from  a  shot  from  Aremberg's  pistol. 
Two  esquires,  eager  to  avenge  the  death  of  Count  Adol- 
phus, rode  at  Aremberg.  With  the  same  weapon  that 
had  slain  their  master,  he  brought  them  down.  As  one 
fell,  he  fired  his  musket  wildly.  The  ball  struck  Arem- 
berg's steed,  and  rider  and  horse  were  overthrown. 

Some  Spaniards  who  had  contrived  to  escape  from 
the  fen,  now  hurried  up,  frightful  with  filth  of  the 
peat-bogs  and  blood  from  open  wounds.  The  conflict 
widened.  When  Aremberg  fell,  Gonzalvo  dismounted  to 
his  assistance,  and  with  the  aid  of  others,  urged  the 
wounded  horse  upon  his  feet.  Aremberg  mounted  the 
bleeding  steed,  and  was  led  forward.  The  horse  ad- 
vanced in  an  uncertain  manner,  staggered,  and  fell  dead. 
Aremberg  sprang  clear  of  the  falling  body.  Rosamunda, 
who  had  succeeded  in  throwing  her  horse  upon  his 
haunches,  alighted  and  offered  the  Count  her  reins. 

296 


ROSAMUNDA    IN    BATTLE 

"  Nay,  little  soldier,"  said  Aremberg  with  a  ghastly 
smile,  "  save  thyself." 

"  Fool !  "  Gonzalvo  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  we  live  or 
die  together  !  "  A  troop  of  Netherlanders  was  seen  ad- 
vancing and  Aremberg  was  left  to  his  fate.  Rosamunda 
and  her  father  joined  the  fleeing  Spaniards.  Aremberg 
took  up  his  position  beside  the  road,  and  calmly 
awaited  the  foe.  Shattered  by  three  musket  balls,  he 
fell,  as  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  rose  above  the  din  of 
war.  Meghem  was  approaching  with  reinforcements. 


297 


Chapter  Four 

BELLE-ISLE  SENDS  FOR  ROSAMUNDA 


1 


Patriots  had  won  their  first  victory,  but 
they  were  unable  to  pursue  their  advantage. 
The  unexpected  arrival  of  Meghem  pre- 
vented the  massacre  that  usually  followed 
decisive  defeats.  Rosamunda  found  herself  in  the  midst 
of  a  confused  rout,  soldiers  bereft  of  armor,  camp-sutlers 
wild  with  terror,  hurrying  to  meet  Meghem.  Gonzalvo 
rode  beside  her,  his  face  disfigured  by  a  sabre-cut.  He 
held  to  the  wound  the  end  of  the  red  scarf  which  dis- 
tinguished the  Spanish  uniform.  The  sun  was  setting. 
Rosamunda  looked  back  for  a  last  glimpse  at  the  battle- 
field. Ever  after,  she  carried  that  picture  in  her 
memory :  corpses  lying  stark  and  bloody,  some  with  the 
fading  light  upon  their  faces,  others  trodden  to  shapeless 
heaps.  The  victors  were  scattered  over  the  field,  exam- 
ining the  dead.  On  the  spot  where  Adolphus  of  Nassau 
had  fallen,  a  group  of  horsemen  sat  immovable,  staring 
after  the  fleeing  Spaniards.  The  sun  threw  their  shad- 
ows in  grotesque  outlines  far  athwart  the  peatbogs. 
Beyond  them  rose  the  monastery  of  Heiliger  Lee, 
stately  and  beautiful  in  the  clear  gold  of  the  spring 
evening. 

298 


NORMANSENDS  FOR  ROSAMUNDA 

When  order  was  partially  restored,  the  retreating  forces 
were  conducted  to  Zuidlaren.  The  town  could  not  ac- 
commodate so  great  a  force,  and  tents  were  pitched 
outside  the  city  walls.  It  was  night  when  the  stricken 
army  lay  down  to  rest.  Rosamunda  threw  herself  upon 
the  ground  dressed  as  she  was,  a  cloak  wrapped  about 
her.  In  the  next  apartment,  separated  from  her  own 
by  a  canvas,  lay  her  father,  delirious  from  his  wound. 
His  incoherent  curses  kept  her  awake.  A  physician 
of  the  city  had  administered  a  treatment  as  logical  as  it 
was  unsuccessful.  Reasoning  that  the  cavalier  had  lost 
too  much  blood  upon  the  side  of  his  gashed  cheek,  the 
leech  had  promptly  bled  him  upon  his  other  side,  to 
establish  an  equilibrium.  As  Rosamunda  now  listened 
to  his  groans,  with  which  mingled  the  snores  of  two 
troopers  who  were  acting  as  nurses,  the  sudden  thought 
came  that  he  might  die.  A  light  flashed  through  her 
soul  at  the  thought.  Perhaps  he  would  die  !  Then  — ? 

She  was  startled  by  a  movement  at  the  edge  of  the 
tent.  A  candle  burned  in  the  other  room,  and  by  its 
light  she  saw  a  human  head,  covered  with  matted  hair, 
and  a  bristling  beard,  slip  along  the  ground.  She  sat 
up,  but  her  trembling  lips  refused  to  utter  a  cry.  The 
head's  eyes  were  wide  open.  The  bristling  whiskers 
parted,  showing  the  red  hollow  of  an  enormous  mouth. 
It  whispered  a  name :  "  Belle-Isle." 

That  name  dispelled  the  numbness  of  her  terror.  She 
started  to  her  feet  with  a  bounding  heart ;  Belle-Isle  had 
sent  her  a  message !  The  head  vanished  and  a  huge 
arm,  naked,  hairy,  and  streaked  with  dried  blood,  came 

299 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

and  went  swiftly,  leaving  upon  the  ground  a  folded 
paper.  She  carried  it  into  the  next  room,  feeling  some- 
thing hard  and  round  within:  it  was  her  ring.  Standing 
with  her  back  toward  the  unconscious  man,  she  read : 

"  Greeting's  to  Senor  Enrique  de  Oviedo  y  Varres,  and 
now  I  call  upon  him  to  fulfil  his  vow  and  come  to  me,  for 
the  cause  is  urgent.  He  who  bears  this  message  is  Hans 
Foot.  Let  this  ring  be  a  token.  Come" 

It  was  Belle-Isle's  writing.  She  crept  back  to  her 
small  apartment,  and  drawing  aside  the  canvas,  dis- 
covered the  form  of  the  Holland  Wolf  within  reach  of 
her  hand.  It  was  dark,  but  she  recognized  him  as  the 
one  who  had  aided  Belle-Isle  in  her  escape  through  the 
palace.  "Where  is  he?"  she  whispered. 

"  S-st !  "  said  Hans  hoarsely. 

"  How  far  away?"  she  persisted,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  S-st !  "  said  Hans. 

She  stood  irresolute,  then  returned  for  her  cloak. 
She  felt  she  could  trust  the  Holland  Wolf;  besides,  he 
could  not  know  her  sex,  since  Belle-Isle  had  sworn  se- 
crecy. The  light  from  the  other  room  showed  her  the 
red  scarf  of  the  Spanish  uniform.  She  stepped  outside 
the  tent,  whispering,  "  I  will  come." 

Hans  moved  softly  forward,  his  form  towering  high 
above  her.  It  was  the  dark  of  the  moon,  but  the  sky's 
blackness  was  powdered  with  gems  which  glittered  so 
brightly  in  their  glory,  that  they  had  a  little  light  to  lend 
the  dull  earth.  The  tents  were  passed  unchallenged. 
Rosamunda,  strengthened  by  excitement,  followed  with- 

300 


NORM  AN  SENDS  FORROSAMUN  DA 

out  a  word,  realizing  the  risk  that  lay  in  her  absence 
from  her  father's  tent.  That  absence,  she  believed,  would 
last  forever.  Return?  Why  should  she  ever  come  back 
to  her  hideous  life  in  man's  disguise  among  dissolute 
soldiery?  Belle-Isle  had  sent  for  her;  she  had  already 
given  him  her  heart,  now  she  was  taking  her  body;  how 
much  more  slowly  it  travelled  to  the  man  she  loved  ! 
Her  heart  leapt  as  if  its  prison-doors  had  been  flung  wide 
open  and  God  were  calling  it  out  into  the  sunshine  of  lib- 
erty. It  was  no  longer  a  dream  of  happiness,  but  happi- 
ness itself  that  swirled  her  thoughts  upward  upon 
wings  of  fire.  Before  her  flitted  the  image  of  Belle-Isle, 
her  pillar  of  fire  by  night,  and  she  would  have  followed 
it  in  its  golden  radiance  through  the  wilderness.  Again 
she  saw  his  face  uptilted  as  if  to  catch  the  light.  Again 
she  felt  his  touch  and  saw  his  lips  tremble  with  a  word 
of  love.  No  need,  now,  to  check  that  word,  or  guard 
against  that  touch ;  she  was  leaving  all  her  past  life  to  be 
his  wholly  until  death.  Suddenly  she  caught  Hans's  arm  : 
"  But  why  did  he  not  come,  instead?  " 

"  S-st !  "  returned  the  other  impatiently.  They  slipped 
through  the  semicircular  rampart  of  wagons  which  bowed 
from  one  corner  of  the  city  wall  to  the  next.  They  reached 
the  edge  of  the  wood,  where  two  horses  stood  waiting. 

"  But  whither?"  cried  Rosamunda,  in  sudden  dread. 

"  I  perform  the  stratagem,"  said  Hans,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper;  "  Belle-Isle  may  do  the  talking." 

The  name  reanimated  her  resolution.  She  mounted 
and  followed,  a  sword  by  her  side,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
journey,  —  Belle-Isle  !  They  galloped  toward  Heiliger 

301 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

Lee.  Clouds  which  had  banked  up  in  the  west  fled 
swiftly  across  the  sky  before  a  rising  wind.  It  grew  very 
dark.  The  road,  which  at  first  had  glimmered  like  the 
pale  reflection  of  water  in  a  darkened  glass,  was  now  lost 
from  sight  Mile  after  mile  was  traversed,  while  the  sky 
darkened,  and  a  warm  wind  rushed  through  the  vast 
solitude.  In  the  north,  a  fitful  lightning  rested  only  that 
it  might  leap  the  higher.  At  last  its  light  played  upon  a 
stately  pile  whose  crown  seemed  reaching  for  the  swell- 
ing clouds  which  billowed  low.  It  was  the  monastery 
of  Heiliger  Lee.  They  held  on  their  way,  and  when  the 
lightning  built  for  itself  stairs  of  fire  to  climb  aloft,  they 
saw  the  battlefield.  It  was  not  deserted.  Huge  bonfires 
threw  red  glares  upon  dreamy  tents. 

A  cry  of  fear  burst  from  Rosamunda's  lips.  But  they 
had  reached  the  end  of  the  journey.  At  the  edge  of  the 
wood  Hans  halted,  and  in  a  hoarse  undertone  began  the 
parody  of  the  Lord's  prayer :  "  Helsche  Duvel,  die  tot 
Brussel  syt  —  " 

A  voice  interrupted :   "  Hans  !  did  he  come?  " 

"  He  is  here,"  said  Hans. 

"  Belle-Isle !  "  exclaimed  Rosamunda,  and  her  voice 
broke  with  a  sob  of  happiness. 

Belle-Isle  found  her  hand  in  the  darkness.  "  I  knew 
I  could  trust  thee  to  come,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Hans, 
lend  me  the  horse,  that  we  may  converse  equally.  And 
return  to  the  camp  to  warn  me  if  I  am  missed." 

Hans  slipped  to  the  ground  and  stole  away.  Belle- 
Isle,  mounted  and  rode  up  beside  Rosamunda. 


302 


Chapter  Five 

THE  MEETING  IN  THE    WOOD 


I 


was  a  muttering  of  thunder,  and  the 
wind  caught  a  tragic  note  and  held  it.  The 
lightning  played  in  the  north  and  south 
like  beacon-fires  answering  each  other.  In 
this  light  the  form  of  Belle-Isle  appeared  and  vanished 
before  Rosamunda  as  by  magic.  "  I  fear  a  storm  is 
brewing,"  he  said  anxiously. 

"  But  shall  we  care?"  she  answered  softly. 
"  Thou  art  brave,"  he  returned,  "  not  to  fear  a  storm. 
Yet  I  trust  it  is  but  the  sullen  humor  of  a  night  that 
cannot  sleep  in  thinking  upon  the  day's  tragedy.     But  I 
have  sent  for  thee,  lady,  in  respect  to  a  serious  matter." 
"  Yes,  Belle-Isle,  as  thou  sayest,  it  is  a  serious  matter ; 
see  —  I  have  risked  my  life  to  come  to  thee." 

"  Surely  I  have  asked  much  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  But 
the  cause  must  justify  me,  lady." 

"  It  does,  Belle-Isle.  But  why  dost  call  me  'lady'? 
It  used  to  be  '  Rosamunda.'  "  Her  voice  trembled  with 
a  little  laugh  of  happiness.  "  Has  my  name  grown  so 
strange  to  thee  ?  " 

"  In  truth  it  is  a  sweet  name,  Rosamunda ;  and  I  shall 
think  of  it  long  after  thou  hast  returned  to  thy  father." 

3°3 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

She  thought  she  had  not  heard  aright.  "  After  — 
when?" 

"  After  thy  return,  lady.  Hans,  who  has  no  suspicion 
that  thou  art  other  than  a  brave  warrior,  will  take  thee 
back  in  perfect  safety." 

The  words  came  as  a  blow.  She  fell  forward  upon 
the  saddle,  her  body  reeling.  Her  face  was  white  and 
stricken,  but  in  the  intermittent  light  he  could  not  see 
her  danger  of  falling  to  the  ground. 

He  continued  in  a  hesitating  voice  :  "  I  do  not  mean 
to  blame  thee  unkindly,  lady,  when  I  speak  of  Anna  van 
der  Loren."  Her  mind  did  not  follow  his  meaning.  It 
mattered  not  why  he  had  sent,  since  it  was  not  from 
love.  She  felt  that  she  must  fall  and  die  at  his  feet. 
She  would  have  shrieked,  but  her  throat  was  dry.  With 
cold,  tense  hands  she  clung  panting  to  the  saddle.  He 
did  not  love  her.  He  had  never  loved  her.  Now  he 
was  talking  —  how  the  words  flowed  in  their  musical 
course  !  "  Consent,  lady ;  it  cannot  matter  to  thee ;  it 
will  matter  so  much  to  her." 

What  was  he  asking?  She  had  but  one  favor  to  give 
him — herself.  Oh,  what  folly  had  taken  up  its  home 
in  her  breast?  She  had  watched  the  flower  of  love 
grow  up  in  her  heart,  filling  her  hours  with  perfect 
fragrance,  like  a  plant  pushing  its  way  through  the 
crevice  of  a  prison  floor.  It  had  blossomed  for  itself 
alone.  But  Belle-Isle's  message  had  flooded  her  soul  with 
a  hope  so  boundless  that  it  rolled  away  into  the  domain 
of  trackless  thought,  then  poured  back  upon  her  heart, 
each  little  wave  bringing  a  smile.  That  sea  of  throbbing 

3°4 


THE    MEETING    IN    THE    WOOD 

hope  had  swept  her  soul  upward,  and  the  music  of  its 
waters  had  found  one  sweet  tone  after  another,  each 
dearer  than  the  last.  Then  she  had  heard  his  voice, 
and  her  "  Belle-Isle  !  "  had  burst  from  a  heart  that  had 
not  room  enough  for  all  its  happiness. 

"  Thou  art  ill,  Rosamunda?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

"  Yes,"  she  gasped.  "  I  am  very  ill.  I  was  about  to 
fall." 

He  cried  out  and  caught  her  cold  hand.  "  I  fear  the 
ride  has  been  beyond  thy  strength,  fair  lady." 

"  No,  not  the  ride.  I  was  dizzy.  I  have  heard  noth- 
ing thou  hast  said,  except  that  I  am  to  return  to  my 
father.  Senor,  why  hast  thou  sent  for  me  ?  Senor  !  what 
am  I  to  thee?  "  In  her  effort  to  speak  without  a  tremor, 
her  voice  sounded  with  its  old-time  note  of  haughty  pride. 

"Thou  hast  heard  nothing  of  Anna  van  der  Loren?  " 
he  exclaimed  uneasily. 

"  I  only  know  thou  hast  spoken  her  name  oftener  than 
mine.  What  wilt  thou  have,  senor?  " 

"  Alas,  lady,  I  beseech  thy  attention !  " 

"  Senor,  why  art  thou  here?  Art  thou  a  prisoner  on 
parole?  " 

"  No,  by  Belle-Isle !  I  command  a  vandera  under 
Louis  of  Nassau." 

"Under  Louis  of  Nassau?"  she  repeated  in  horror. 
"  My  God  !  thou  art  even  a  heretic  and  traitor !  " 

"  But,"  he  observed  lightly,  "  that  is  nothing  to  thee, 
fair  lady." 

"  Tell  me  thy  wish,  Belle-Isle.     I  listen." 

"  Dost  remember  our  last  meeting,   Rosamunda?" 
20  3°S 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  How  well !  Senor,  I  wear  the  cloak  that  was  thine. 
When  thy  anger  caused  thee  to  say  words  that  tore 
my  heart,  I  drew  this  cloak  about  me  in  lieu  of  a 
dress,  crying  out  that  I,  too,  was  a  woman.  The  very 
cloak  —  for  I  never  parted  from  it.  Take  it  again, 
senor,"  she  added,  drawing  it  from  her  shoulder  and 
throwing  it  upon  his  horse. 

"  I  have  been  honored,"  he  said  gallantly. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  I  referred  to  the  last  time  we  were  together,  lady.  I 
carried  Anna  van  der  Loren  to  her  parents'  home ;  but 
her  parents  had  fled  that  they  might  not  witness  her 
disgrace.  We  followed  them  afoot.  She  was  such  a 
dear  child,  so  quaint  and  humble  !  We  passed  the  nights 
at  strange  inns.  I  treated  her  as  if  she  were  my  daugh- 
ter. There  were  delicious  adventures."  He  broke  off 
as  one  scene  after  another  flashed  before  his  mind.  He 
laughed  softly. 

"  I  listen,  senor."     Her  cold  tone  aroused  him. 

"  So  we  reached  Leyden,  where  her  father  had  settled 
—  but  think  of  that  journey,  all  on  foot,  every  day  a 
perfect  picture  of  joy  !  Her  parents  at  last  were  con- 
vinced that  she  had  been  foolish  instead  of  wicked.  She 
lives  with  them  now,  but  her  heart  she  thinks  to  be 
broken,  for  she  thinks  of  thee  day  and  night.  Oh,  release 
me  from  my  vow  to  keep  thy  secret !  It  cannot  harm 
thee  for  little  Bluemask,  in  far-away  Leyden,  to  know 
thee  as  thou  art." 

"  Thou  dost  not  ask  if  I  obeyed  thy  former  request," 
she  said  slowly. 

306 


THE    MEETING    IN    THE    WOOD 

"What  other  request  did  I  ever  make  thee,  lady? 
Oh — the  Janssens  !  True.  Poor  Wilhelmina  !  Didst 
thou  save  them?  " 

"  I  did  all  that  I  could.  At  that  time,  it  was  enough 
for  thee  to  express  a  wish,  and  my  heart  leaped  to  obey. 
But  I  do  not  know  if  the  Janssens  were  saved,  for  we  left 
Brussels.  But  I  persuaded  Don  Ferdinando  to  act  for 
thee.  We  were  very  good  friends,  were  we  not?  Didst 
thou  not  have  kind  thoughts  of  me  in  those  days?" 

"  In  truth,  Rosamunda  —  but  I  hear  Hans  returning. 
In  a  word,  may  I  undeceive  Bluemask?  " 

"  Senor,  what  is  she  to  thee?  " 

"  They  inquire  for  thee,"  said  Hans,  hurrying  up.  "  A 
nimble  captain,  by  St.  Bavon !  There  is  to  be  a  night 
council." 

"  In  a  word,  fair  lady  —  " 

"  In  a  word,  No  !  "  she  answered  fiercely. 

"  Rosamunda  !    In  the  name  of  our  past  friendship  — " 

"  Never,  never  !  "  She  wheeled  about  and  struck  spurs 
to  her  horse. 

"  Off  with  thee !  "  cried  Hans,  dragging  Belle-Isle  to 
the  ground,  and  leaping  into  his  place.  "  Back  to 
the  camp  before  thou  art  lost,  Frenchman  !  "  He  spurred 
after  Rosamunda.  They  exchanged  no  word  except  a 
brief  parting  at  Zuidlaren  as  she  dismounted. 

With  rapid  stride,  she  gained  her  father's  tent.  As 
she  drew  aside  the  canvas  and  bent  her  head,  an  oppres- 
sive weariness  came  upon  her.  She  stood  in  the  room 
where  she  had  thought  never  to  stand  again,  and  her 
past  thoughts  of  happiness  came  to  mock  her  in  the 

3°7 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

leaden  solitude  of  her  life.  What  happy  thoughts  had 
died  that  night !  A  spasm  of  pain  contorted  her  face. 
She  threw  herself  upon  the  bed,  and  shook  with  terrible 
sobs.  She  sought  to  restrain  her  agony,  but  her  control 
had  at  last  given  way.  Her  voice  choked  in  desolate 
sorrow,  —  it  struggled  for  words,  then  cried  out  heedless. 
But  her  sorrow  had  a  witness  —  her  father.  When 
she  became  conscious  that  her  grief  was  audible,  she 
started  up  and  found  Gonzalvo  in  the  inner  doorway, 
the  candle  in  his  hand.  His  face  was  white  save  for 
its  deep  wound.  His  eyes  glittered  dangerously,  but 
no  longer  from  delirium.  He  regarded  the  stricken 
woman  with  perfect  intelligence,  and  with  a  purpose 
so  secret  and  deadly  that  Rosamunda  found  strength 
to  rise,  and  shrink  to  the  farthest  side  of  the  tent. 


308 


Chapter  Six 

THE  RE  VELA  TION 

SHE  stood  like  a  hunted  animal,  shuddering  — 
terror  in  her  wide  eyes.  Gonzalvo  was  half 
dressed.  The  bandage  was  gone  from  the 
wound,  though  it  had  been  bleeding  afresh. 
As  he  held  the  candle,  its  light  was  upon  his  haggard 
face,  but  the  piercing  eyes  looked  through  its  halo  and 
burned  into  her  consciousness.  He  was  rendered  ter- 
rible by  the  expression  of  one  whose  white  fury  has 
temporarily  driven  the  flush  of  fever  from  the  face. 
The  very  hand  that  gripped  the  candle  was  as  white 
as  marble,  and  clawlike  in  its  grasping  tension.  He  was 
a  man  ill  from  loss  of  blood,  but  strong  from  passion. 
In  his  flaming  eyes  was  written  rage,  and  something  else 
she  did  not  understand.  Not  daring  to  move,  she  clung 
to  the  tent-wall,  which  shook  in  gusts  of  wind.  He 
placed  the  candle  upon  the  ground. 

"  So,  we  are  back  again  !  "  he  sneered.  "  We  have 
wandered  abroad.  We  have  had  our  little  secrets. 
Shall  we  not,  some  day,  stretch  our  wings  for  a  farther 
flight?  We  are  weary  of  fighting  for  the  king.  In 
short,  we  are  a  little  fool, — is  it  not  so,  Enrique?" 

309 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

She  shuddered  under  his  gaze. 

"Before  I  explain  what  I  want  of  thee,"  he  continued, 
advancing  a  step,  "  it  is  well  for  thee  to  know  I  am  not 
thy  father,  nor  art  thou  a  De  Oviedo." 

She  quivered  from  head  to  foot  as  her  eyes  fastened 
themselves  upon  him  with  a  sudden  eager  intensity. 

He  nodded  sneeringly.  "  Yes,  woman  in  man's 
clothes !  I  have  never  married.  I  loved  her  who  is 
Josephine  van  der  Loren.  She,  too,  was  a  little  fool. 
When  thou  wert  an  infant  I  carried  thee  off  to  a  con- 
vent. She  and  Gerbrand  are  thy  parents,  and  Anna 
thy  sister." 

By  a  great  effort  Rosamunda  called  the  names  of  the 
troopers  she  had  left  in  the  other  room.  "  Diego ! 
Juan !  " 

Gonzalvo  laughed  cruelly.  "  Ay,  Diego  and  Juan ! 
Where  are  they?  Searching  for  thee  throughout  the 
camp.  I  explained  to  them,"  he  added  slowly  as  if  each 
poisonous  word  left  a  pleasant  taste  ;  "  they  know  thou 
art  a  woman,  pretending  to  be  my  son  so  thou  canst 
live  with  me.  When  they  return,  they  shall  bring 
woman's  clothes,  and  thou  shalt  say  farewell  to  thy 
brave  uniform.  Henceforth,  thou  livest  with  our 
other  women." 

She  grasped  the  canvas  with  a  frenzied  hand,  but  it 
was  secured  to  the  ground  by  strong  stakes.  He  came 
nearer,  his  feverish  eyes  devouring  her.  "  Dressed  as 
a  man,  thou  hast  broken  thine  own  sister's  heart.  In 
doing  so,  thou  hast  crushed  the  hearts  of  thy  parents. 
When  I  send  thee  to  them  after  I  am  done  with  thee, 

310 


THE    REVELATION 

Josephine  shall  know  that  I  kept  my  promise  of  revenge. 
Thy  secrecy  this  night  has  hastened  thy  fate." 

He  sprang  toward  her  with  outstretched  arms.  Des- 
peration nerved  her  to  her  defence.  Her  sword  leaped 
from  its  scabbard.  "  Gonzalvo  forgets,"  she  cried, 
"  that  he  has  made  a  soldier  of  Rosamunda  van  der 
Loren."  In  that  instant  she  renounced  him,  accepting 
the  name  that  was  hers  by  right  of  birth. 

Gonzalvo  thrust  his  hand  into  his  bosom  for  his  dagger, 
forgetting  that  he  was  but  half  dressed.  As  he  groped 
madly,  his  hand  bared  his  bosom.  His  revenge  appeared 
so  certain,  as  her  slender  form  shrank  away,  that  his  rea- 
son was  blinded.  He  saw  her  through  a  red  mist; 
foam  was  upon  his  lips.  With  a  reckless  cry  he  rushed 
upon  her  to  overpower  her  by  the  very  force  of  the 
attack.  The  point  of  her  sword  touched  his  naked 
bosom.  The  sudden  sting  of  pain  brought  him  to 
himself  and  he  halted  with  arms  still  extended,  unable 
to  fall  back,  for  upon  his  soul  fell  the  sudden  horror 
of  inevitable  death.  The  next  moment  her  blade 
pierced  his  body,  and  with  a  low  groan  he  fell  dead 
at  Rosamunda's  feet. 

She  glared  upon  his  convulsed  body  still  with  the 
mad  frenzy  in  her  eyes,  which  had  sent  her  sword 
through  his  heart  to  preserve  her  honor.  He  was  dead 
—  and  she  was  free  !  She  looked  wildly  about  to  assure 
herself  that  she  was  alone.  Then,  with  desperate  hand 
she  drew  the  sword  from  his  body.  The  blood  rushed 
from  the  gaping  wound,  bathed  his  naked  breast  and 
ran  down  his  neck,  forming  a  pool  about  his  head. 

3" 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

She  wiped  the  blade  on  the  canvas  wall  till  it  was 
cleansed,  then  thrust  it  into  her  scabbard  and  fled. 

It  had  begun  to  rain.  The  drops  were  large  and  few, 
but  the  wind  cast  them  with  such  force  that  each  seemed 
to  find  an  echo.  Rosamunda  had  but  one  definite 
thought,  escape.  Whither  could  she  flee?  She  turned 
toward  the  rampart:  beyond  it  was  isolation.  Day  and 
night  would  she  crouch  in  shadows  and  fens,  with  no 
Belle-Isle  in  her  future.  But  two  lights  drew  near. 
She  stopped.  The  lights  advanced.  She  glided  to 
one  side.  The  lights  stopped.  She  tried  to  run  and 
her  foot  slipped.  She  fell. 

A  voice  accosted  her :  "  Pardon,  senor !  "  It  was 
Diego. 

"We  have  found  thee,  senor!  "said  Juan.  Rosa- 
munda staggered  up,  the  red  light  upon  her  brow.  Her 
eyes  travelled  from  face  to  face  as  she  grasped  her 
sword :  she  was  trembling  as  with  an  ague. 

"  It  has  been  a  weary  search,"  complained  Diego. 

"  Senor,"  said  Juan,  "  thy  father  is  in  a  most  des- 
perate mood." 

"  Yes,  quite  wild,"  said  Diego.  "  When  he  came  to 
his  honorable  self  and  found  thee  gone,  he  fell  upon 
us  with  such  manly  blows  that  it  made  his  honorable 
wound  tear  afresh." 

"Yes,  by  Our  Lady,"  Juan  affirmed,  "  he  bled  more 
than  we,  senor!  But  we  beseech  thee,  return." 

"  Come,  then,"  said  Rosamunda  abruptly.  She  knew 
that  Gonzalvo  had  not  revealed  her  secret.  No ;  now 
she  understood  that  it  had  not  been  his  purpose  to 

312 


THE    REVELATION 

reveal  her  sex,  but  to  keep  the  threat  of  betrayal  hang- 
ing ever  over  her  head.  As  she  realized  the  life  to 
which  he  had  devoted  her  in  his  mind,  a  faintness 
almost  overpowered  her,  but  the  realization  of  her  dan- 
ger enabled  her  to  stagger  on  to  the  tent.  They  entered 
Gonzalvo's  apartment.  "  What  have  you  done  with 
him?"  she  cried,  her  excitement  giving  to  her  voice 
the  ring  of  anger. 

"  Belike,"  said  Diego,  staring  at  the  empty  bed,  "  he 
hath  gone  forth  to  search  for  thee,  senor." 

"  I  left  him  delirious  with  fever,"  she  returned,  her 
nervousness  strengthening  the  impression  of  fury. 
'Tell  me  where  you  have  put  him." 

Diego  looked  at  Juan.  "  By  Our  Lady,"  said  Juan, 
"  thou  art  as  mad  as  thy  sire,  an  it  please  thee !  " 

"  Why  have  you  taken  the  candle  to  my  room?  "  she 
cried.  "  What  deadly  trick  is  this?  " 

Diego  looked  at  Juan.  "  Some  one  has  been  here," 
said  Juan  thoughtfully.  The  troopers  entered  the  next 
room.  Rosamunda  stood  with  a  white  face,  leaning 
upon  her  sword.  A  sudden  cry  strengthened  her  to 
approach  the  partition.  Juan  held  the  candle;  both 
were  staring  at  the  dead  body.  The  sight  of  that  corpse 
and  a  recollection  of  all  that  had  happened  brought 
a  scream  from  Rosamunda's  lips.  She  could  utter  no 
words  to  carry  out  her  part,  but  with  a  trembling  finger 
she  pointed  to  the  red  streaks  athwart  the  whiteness 
of  the  canvas  wall.  The  limbs  of  the  troopers  trembled 
as  they  realized  her  meaning.  Their  hesitation  helped 
her.  "  With  his  own  sword,"  she  gasped.  She  pressed 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

her  hand  to  her  heart  to  still  its  throbbing.     "  Where  is 
it  hidden?" 

"  Mother  of  God  !  "  cried,  Juan  rushing  into  the  next 
room  with  the  candle.  They  did  not  know  that  Rosa- 
munda  had  left  her  sword  upon  the  battlefield,  and  that 
she  had  been  given  Gonzalvo's.  Diego  looked  at  Juan. 
Juan  glared  into  Rosamunda's  immovable  face,  then 
into  the  red  eyes  of  his  comrade.  Suddenly  he  threw 
the  light  upon  the  ground  and  trampled  it  out.  Rosa- 
munda  heard  them  running  away.  She  sank  upon  her 
knees  and  groped  for  the  candle.  She  relighted  it  and 
placed  it  upon  the  ground  where  Gonzalvo  had  left  it. 
Then  she  ran  from  the  tent,  carrying  the  picture  of  the 
matted  hair  dabbled  in  the  red  pool.  As  she  ran,  she 
cried  the  alarm :  "  Gonzalvo  is  slain  !  Help,  help ! 
Gonzalvo  is  slain ! "  From  afar  came  the  beat  of 
horses'  hoofs:  Diego  and  Juan  had  escaped.  There 
was  a  low  rumble  of  thunder.  The  shower  was  over. 
The  wind  had  banked  up  the  clouds  in  formless  masses, 
and  in  one  place  a  small  opening  had  been  made.  The 
planet  Mars  was  visible  through  the  aperture.  It  was  as 
if  heaven  looked  down  through  one  red  eye,  to  watch 
Rosamunda. 


BOOK  III.—  THE  STORM  RAGES 


ONE  afternoon  near  the  end  of  July  a  Hollan- 
der with  the  ample  girth  peculiar  to  his  race 
rode  through  a  barren  scene  in  Friesland. 
He  was  carried  by  a  mule  whose  cocked  ears 
evinced  but  too  plainly  the  unconquerable  spirit  of 
liberty  which  comes  from  full  feeding.  The  hot  breath 
of  war  had  breathed  upon  the  land,  and  life  had  black- 
ened and  vanished  in  the  flame  of  the  dragon.  The 
burly  rider  wore,  in  spite  of  the  heat,  a  hood  low  upon 
his  face.  He  had  for  a  week  passed  through  barren 
scenes  where  not  long  before  happy  homes  had  sent  up 
the  smoke  of  peace.  Now,  look  where  he  might,  all 
was  a  desert.  Here  and  there  he  discovered  charred 
skeletons  in  the  ashes,  and,  along  the  road,  naked  bodies 
which  for  days  had  lain  under  the  July  sun.  The  trav- 
eller urged  on  his  mule,  for  death  was  in  the  air. 

Suddenly  he  started  in  wonder  as  there  came  to  him 
the  sound  of  laughter.  The  mule,  not  waiting  for  orders, 
hastened  across  the  blasted  meadows  toward  the  sound. 
The  earth  dipped,  and  revealed  a  canal  along  which  grew 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

a  strip  of  green.  Upon  the  margin  a  crowd  had  collected, 
their  miserable  rags  proclaiming  them  not  Spaniards  but 
his  own  countrymen.  A  young  man  stood  singing  in  a 
rich,  clear  voice,  while  before  him  sat  a  semicircle  of  chil- 
dren sprinkled  with  a  few  old  women  and  two  men  who 
propped  themselves  upon  rude  crutches.  The  singer 
wore  the  red  scarf  of  the  Spanish  uniform.  His  song 
was  a  merry  one,  and  he  smiled  as  he  tilted  up  his  face 
toward  the  light.  It  was  a  beautiful  face,  the  face  of 
Belle-Isle.  The  children  gave  but  a  hurried  glance  at  the 
new-comer,  then  glued  their  eyes  on  the  Frenchman. 
At  the  end  of  the  verse  Belle- Isle  paused,  and  approached 
the  rider.  "  This  is  a  strange  sight,"  he  exclaimed,  "  a 
well-fed  man  upon  a  sleek  mule.  By  Belle-Isle,  these 
starving  Dutch  may  feed  their  eyes  upon  thy  fatness ! 
Thy  name,  I  pray?" 

"  I  heard  there  had  been  a  battle,"  said  the  other 
slowly,  "  but  he  who  sold  me  this  mule  at  the  Zuider 
Zee  said  nothing  of  such  desolation.  I  rode  hither 
without  question,  for  speech  is  the  frailty  of  women  and 
the  folly  of  men." 

"  There  were  two  battles,"  said  Belle-Isle.  "  But  thy 
name,  I  pray  thee?  " 

"  I  took  ship  at  the  Maas,  and  came  up  the  North  Sea ; 
hence  I  was  cut  off  from  this  news." 

"  The  rout  was  on  the  twenty-first.  Hast  thought  of 
thy  name?  I  am  Belle-Isle,  at  thy  service.  Come!  be 
at  mine  !  "  The  traveller  drew  his  hood  from  his  face. 
"  Jan  Janssen  !  "  exclaimed  the  Frenchman,  grasping 
his  hand. 

316 


THE    PATH     OF    WAR 

"  We  are  well  met,"  said  Jan.  "  There  was  a  mistake 
in  Brussels." 

"  But  where  is  the  beautiful  Wil —  I  should  say  thy 
adorable  father!"  cried  Belle-Isle,  beaming.  "Where 
is  Vrouw  van  Boendale  and  her  illustrious  ancestor?" 

"  There  was  a  mistake  in  Brussels,"  repeated  Jan, 
shaking  his  head  solemnly. 

"  My  old  Jan !  This  seems  too  good  to  be  true. 
Wilhelmina  is  somewhere  in  the  rear,  I  warrant  me  ! 
Hans  Foot  will  be  here  soon;  he  has  gone  foraging. 
By  Belle-Isle !  what  a  large  husband  Kenau  will  have, 
when  she  is  a  married  lady  !  Dost  wonder,"  he  dropped 
his  voice,  "  to  see  me  consorting  with  these  half  naked 
and  altogether  uncleanly  miserables?  Not  long  since 
those  children  saw  their  parents  treated  as  I  have  not 
the  heart  to  describe.  Yonder  ancient  women  were 
spared  on  account  of  their  ghoulish  ugliness.  Oh,  Jan, 
a  woman  can  be  so  ugly  !  " 

"  There  was  a  mistake  in  Brussels,"  said  Jan. 

"  Jan,  knowest  thou  Jemmingen  on  the  bank  of  the 
Ems?  We  were  posted  on  the  narrow  peninsula,  the 
river  on  one  side,  a  great  bay  on  the  other.  We  were 
ten  thousand.  There  came  against  us  only  fifteen  hun- 
dred Spaniards,  and  we  came  out  of  strong  fortifications 
to  engage  them.  I  was  captain  of  a  vandera.  I  saw 
half  of  my  command  fall,  and  not  one  Spaniard  was  slain. 
We  held  on,  furious  to  find  ourselves  unable  to  cope 
with  so  small  a  force;  but  our  men  were  untrained. 
Patriotism  is  worth  most  in  defence.  No  heart  was  ever 
so  strong  with  the  consciousness  of  right,  that  a  sword 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

could  not  stop  its  throb.  Then,  suddenly,  Alva  appeared 
with  his  reserves,  —  thousands  upon  thousands.  They 
poured  down  upon  us,  threatening  to  trample  us  to 
death  by  their  irresistible  onrush,  and  we  became  panic- 
stricken.  We  deserted  our  trenches  and  rushed  to  the 
water's  edge.  Louis  of  Nassau  ran  among  us,  entreat- 
ing with  tears.  But  death  was  rolling  toward  us.  He 
sprang  to  the  five  cannons  and  fired  them  off  one  by  one, 
—  the  only  time  they  sounded  that  day,  till  the  enemy 
seized  upon  them  and  turned  them  against  us.  And  then 
the  destruction  was  terrible.  Bilder  helped  strip  Count 
Louis  of  his  uniform,  and  those  two  plunged  naked  into 
the  Ems.  I  do  not  know  what  became  of  them.  Hans 
and  I  swam  to  an  island  in  the  river.  Many  of  our  men, 
stripped  of  arms,  joined  us.  From  the  island  we  watched 
the  scene  of  horror.  Not  a  Dutch  prisoner  was  spared. 
I  have  since  heard  that  seven  Spaniards  were  slain  in 
all ;  and  of  us,  seven  thousand !  If  this  country  ever 
finds  liberty,  I  think  it  will  not  be  at  the  point  of  the  sword. 
Hans  and  I  swam  ashore  that  night  and  made  our  way 
through  the  enemy's  ranks  ;  the  red  scarf  of  the  Spanish 
uniform  protected  us  as  it  did  at  Heiliger  Lee.  Terrible 
crimes  followed  that  defeat.  The  enemy  spread  over 
the  country :  no  house  was  left  standing :  not  one  woman 
preserved  her  honor,  nor  a  man  his  life,  save  here  and 
there  a  wretch  left  for  dead  beside  the  corpses  of  his 
loved  ones." 

"  I  had  three  daughters,"  spoke  up  an  old  woman. 
"  Two  were  married.  The  other  was  so  beautiful,  —  she 
was  a  mother's  dream,  come  true." 


THE    PATH    OF    WAR 

"And  I  had  a  brave  son,"  said  a  cripple;  "Jacob 
Klaaszen.  Belle-Isle  knew  him.  Belle-Isle  says  he 
fought  terribly  at  the  Ems." 

"  Ay,"  said  Belle-Isle,  winking  at  Jan,  "  he  was  an 
awful  warrior !  " 

"  I  am  all  there  is  left  of  us,"  said  a  lad.  "  They  tore 
out  my  father's  heart;  I  saw  it.  I  am  ten,  and  Belle- 
Isle  says  I  shall  soon  be  a  man." 

Jan  said,  "There  was  a  mistake  in  Brussels —  "But 
his  voice  choked. 

"Thou  art  the  same  Jan,"  cried  Belle-Isle,  "  thou  tak- 
est  root  to  a  thought  and  drawest  out  all  nourishment 
before  one  can  transplant  thee.  Let  us  leave  that  mis- 
take in  Brussels,  for  yonder  comes  Hans  Foot." 

"  Ay,  here  I  come,"  shouted  the  shaggy  giant, 
approaching  with  great  strides.  "Food  for  the  little 
ones !  Spread  the  table  and  set  the  chairs !  "  The 
next  moment  he  recognized  Jan,  and,  throwing  his  bag 
to  the  women,  rushed  to  his  embrace.  "  A  star  has 
fallen  out  of  heaven.  Thou  brother  of  Wilhelmina ! 
Where  is  my  love,  Jan?  " 

"  Ay,  get  that  from  him,"  Belle-Isle  nodded  his  head ; 
"  he  has  stuck  on  Brussels  and  can  get  no  farther." 

"  We  have  lived  in  Zutphen  since  our  escape  from  the 
Inquisition,"  said  Jan.  "  Only  Kenau's  father  was  de- 
tained in  Brussels,  and  I  went  thither  to  learn  his  fate." 

"  Well  —  quick,  —  how  fares  it  with  Father  Joost?  " 

"  I  purchased  this  mule  to  return  to  Kenau  with  the 
tidings :  and  behold,  in  the  midst  of  this  desolation,  I 
find  Belle-Isle,  singing  songs  !  " 

319 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  That  is  a  stratagem,"  said  Hans,  with  a  grin ;  "  I 
made  it.  We  appear  gay  for  the  sake  of  these  homeless 
ones.  Didst  hear  my  jests  as  I  came  up  ?  Didst  hear 
me  tell  them  to  spread  the  table  ?  " 

"  In  truth,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  I  marked  the  jest." 

"  The  ground  is  our  table,  already  spread  with  grass," 
Hans  explained.  "  Yet  I  said,  '  Spread  the  table.' 
Markest  the  wit,  Jan?  " 

Jan  looked  at  the  Holland  Wolf  doubtfully. 

"  Furthermore,"  continued  Hans  with  zest,  "  I  bade 
them  set  their  chairs ;  it  made  little  Meijer  Dirk  laugh 
outright.  Didst  note  that  jest  of  the  chairs?  " 

"  By  Belle-Isle,  friend,  it  would  have  made  the  devil 
laugh !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Hans,  uncertain  of  this  compliment,  "  it 
does  not  take  much  to  do  that.  The  devil  is  no  solemn 
gentleman,  at  his  best." 

"Where  are  these  chairs?"  demanded  Jan,  looking 
about. 

"  That  is  the  whole  matter,"  said  Hans  in  elucidation. 
"There  is  the  jest;  there  are  no  chairs.  There  is  no 
jest  in  truths ;  it  takes  a  lie  to  make  a  man  laugh." 

"  But  Father  Joost?  "  demanded  Belle-Isle. 

"  He  was  burned.  I  am  taking  Kenau  the  news.  I 
heard  him  singing  hymns  above  the  roar  of  the  flames." 

Hans  groaned,  then  cried  out,  "  Oh,  when  Bilder 
and  I  go  forth  once  more  to  battle !  " 

"  I  thank  God,"  said  Jan,  "  that  they  had  not  invented 
the  new  gag  when  Father  Joost  was  burned.  It  is  thus : 
the  tongue  is  bored  with  a  hot  iron,  and  a  thong  holds  a 

320 


THE    PATH    OF    WAR 

stick  in  the  aperture,  till  the  tongue,  swelling,  holds  it 
there  of  itself.  That  is  to  prevent  heretics  from  preach- 
ing as  they  are  dragged  to  the  scaffold.  If  Philip 
knew  what  outrages  were  committed  in  his  name,  would 
he  not  come  to  our  rescue?  " 

"  God  save  the  King !  "  cried  the  cripples,  pausing  in 
their  repast. 

Jan  nodded.  "  So  Count  Egmont  cried  to  the 
last." 

"  What !  did  they  destroy  Egmont,  one  of  the  truest 
Catholics  who  ever  lived  ?  " 

"  He  wrote  to  the  King  the  morning  of  his  execution," 
pursued  Jan,  "  and  signed  himself  thus: 

"  'Ready  to  die,  this  $th  June,  1568, 

" '  Your  majesty's  most  humble  and  loyal  vassal  and 
servant, 
"  '  Lamorel  d' Egmont!  " 

"  God  save  the  King !  "  cried  Hans,  but  Belle-Isle 
shuddered  at  his  voice.  The  little  children  took  up  the 
words  in  a  shrill  chorus. 

"  Come,  let  us  eat  with  the  others,"  said  Hans,  with  a 
lowering  brow,  "  we  must  on  to  Zutphen.  I  pray 
heaven  that  Bilder  got  Louis  of  Nassau  safe  to  Germany, 
and  that  they  may  soon  return  with  a  fresh  army. 
War,  war ! "  he  cried,  raising  his  clenched  hands  above 
his  wild  head.  "  Vengeance  for  our  women  !  Vengeance 
for  their  fathers  and  husbands!  Vengeance  for  the 
innocent  children  !  " 


21 


321 


Chapter    Two 

HANS  FOOT  ATTEMPTS  STRATEGY 

AFTER  the    meagre   repast,  the   little  party 
went  forward,  Jan   insisting  that  the  oldest 
woman  should  ride  his  mule.     "  She  is  a 
safe    beast    when    started,"    he     asserted. 
"  Sometimes  she  is  reluctant  to  start.     In  that  case  one 
must  run  with  her  a  bit  and  leap  upon  her  back  while 
she   is  in  the  heat  of  motion."     The   mule  had  better 
grace  than  to  put  the  old  woman  to  such  pains,  but 
ambled  off  patiently,  her  alert  ears  saying  to  the  world, 
'  A  full  stomach  and  a  light  back  !  " 

One  of  the  cripples  hobbled  up  to  Jan 's  side.     "  Please 
your  worship,  hast  heard  of  one  Jacob  Klaaszen?  " 

"Why  callest  me  thus?"  returned  Jan.     "I  am  no 
more  a  worship  than  my  mule." 

"  Nay,  your  worship,  whoso  rides  while  others  walk 

has  six  legs  in  his  retinue ;  he  is  my  masterful  worship." 

"  Not  so  ! "  exclaimed  Belle-Isle,  "  for  whoso   walks 

has  the  whole  world  at  his  feet     But  of  course  Jan  has 

heard  of  thy  terrible  son." 

The  father's  eyes  danced.     "  He  was  a  fearsome  war- 
rior !     I  saw  him  torn  limb  from  limb  before  his  wife's 

322 


HANS    ATTEMPTS    STRATEGY 

eyes ;    but  he   was  terrible.     Belle-Isle   knows  how   he 
fought  at  Heiliger  Lee  !  " 

"  By  Belle-Isle,  he  was  awful !  When  Adolphus  was 
slain,  fifteen  Spaniards  stood  guard  over  the  corpse. 
But  up  rushes  this  Jacob  Klaaszen." 

"Fifteen?"  said  Hans  Foot  doubtfully.  "Can  a 
mortal  man  overcome  fifteen  Spaniards?  " 

"  There  were  fifteen,"  said  Belle-Isle  resolutely. 

"  Bethink  thee,  Hans,"  said  the  anxious  father,  "  do 
not  make  them  less,  good  Hans.  Yet  this  morning 
there  were  but  eight." 

"  Belle-Isle  is  right,"  Hans  exclaimed.  "  There 
were  fifteen.  Then  up  rushes  thy  son,  out  flashes 
his  sword ;  two  heads  roll  to  his  feet.  Now  there  are 
ten." 

"  Nay,  thirteen,"  Belle-Isle  interposed.  "  But  quick 
as  a  flash  we  have  another  head  off,  two  hearts  pierced, 
another  head  brained,  a  fifth  wretch  despatched ;  now 
there  are  eight  left." 

"  This  is  quick  work  !  "  cried  Hans.  "  Patience,  Father 
Klaaszen,  we  shall  presently  have  them  all  slain.  Then 
he  fires  a  musket;  the  ball  goes  through  one  body, 
comes  out,  and  slays  another  who  is  trying  to  hide  from 
this  angel  of  death." 

"  The  others  were  paralyzed  with  terror ;  their  legs 
were  like  wax.  Thy  son  took  from  each  his  weapon  and 
with  lightning  rapidity  slew  eight  more." 

"  Thereupon,"  cried  Hans,  "  he  drew  his  dagger  —  " 

"  Nay,"  interposed  Belle-Isle,  "  they  are  all  slain." 

"  By  St.  Bavon,  there  is  one  left  for  this  dagger ! " 
323 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Good  Hans,"  said  Belle-Isle  peevishly,  "  they  are 
all  despatched.  I  have  kept  count." 

Jan  spoke.  "  It  was  an  imperfect  reckoning,  however, 
for  I  have  summed  up  seventeen  corpses  that  these 
fifteen  Spaniards  left  upon  the  field." 

Hans  glared  at  the  Frenchman.  "  Why  didst  thou 
not  leave  me  a  Spaniard  for  this  dagger  ?  " 

"All  Holland  shall  hear  of  this  deed,"  cried  the 
old  father.  "There  is  nothing  left  for  me  in  life 
but  to  go  to  and  fro,  spreading  the  fame  of  my 
dead  son !  " 

At  night  they  came  to  a  deserted  cabin  where  they 
decided  to  pass  the  night,  for  Zutphen  was  still  two 
days  distant  About  midnight  Jan  slipped  to  Hans  in 
the  darkness  and  shook  hinVgently.  The  Holland  Wolf 
started  up  with  the  quickness  of  an  old  campaigner. 
"  Come  outside,"  Jan  whispered,  "  and  wake  not  Belle- 
Isle  !  "  It  sounded  like  a  stratagem,  and  Hans  silently 
obeyed. 

When  they  were  some  distance  from  the  cabin, 
Hans  Foot  inquired,  "  What  is  thy  plot,  brother  of 
Wilhelmina?" 

"  Ay,  Wilhelmina  is  the  cause,"  said  Jan.  "  Let  us 
sit  and  discuss  at  our  ease." 

"  Not  so,  Jan ;  he  who  sits  to  plot  a  plot,  plots  for  his 
enemy.  What  of  Wilhelmina  ?  " 

"  Soon  Belle-Isle  will  see  her." 

"  Ha !  "  exclaimed  Hans.     "  Oho  !  " 

"  And  she  will  see  Belle-Isle." 

"  She  will  see  naught  but  a  Frenchman,  Jan." 
324 


HANS    ATTEMPTS    STRATEGY 

"Look  thou,  Hans  Foot;  ever  since  we  were  loosed 
from  the  Inquisition,  Wilhelmina  has  worn  a  look." 

"  She  has  worn  what,  Jan?  " 

"A  look." 

"Now  what  means  this  symbolical  attire?  " 

"  Hans  Foot,  there  is  a  spark  in  her  eye.  I  tell  thee, 
the  breath  of  Belle-Isle  will  blow  that  spark  to  a  blaze." 

"  A  blaze?  My  Wilhelmina  in  a  blaze?  " 

"  Love,"  said  Jan. 

There  was  silence ;  then  Hans  said,  "  He  and  I  have 
been  comrades.  When  we  first  met  after  our  long  sepa- 
ration we  came  together  to  fight,  for  so  much  he  had 
promised.  But  I  must  have  been  very  weak  that  day, 
or  perhaps  the  devil  had  time  on  his  hands  and  took  a 
turn  at  me.  I  know  not.  But  he  struck  my  sword  clean 
from  my  hand.  Then  dost  think  he  ran  me  through 
with  his  blade?" 

"We  must  devise  some  way  of  keeping  him  from  my 
sister,"  said  Jan  ;  "  thou  art  a  man  of  subtlety." 

"  I  say,  Jan,  thinkest  he  spitted  me  with  his  sword  ?  " 

"  I  have  often  heard  thee  boast,"  Jan  pursued  his  own 
train  of  thought,  "that  thou  canst  fashion  cunning 
devices." 

"  Dost  thou  think,"  cried  Hans,  raising  his  voice,  "  I 
say,  dost  think  he  killed  me  upon  the  spot?  " 

"I  think  nothing  of  the  matter,"  returned  the  other 
impatiently,  "  but  if  thou  speakest  so  loud,  he  will  come 
forth  thinking  my  mule  has  lifted  up  her  voice." 

"  Then  I  tell  thee,"  Hans  lowered  his  voice,  "  that  he 
did  not  slay  me,  but  embraced,  instead,  crying  that  it 

325 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

was  no  fault  of  mine ;  as  certainly  it  was  not.  But  I 
love  him  for  that,  Jan ;  I  cannot  kill  him." 

"  Now  who  wants  him  killed,  Hans  Foot  ?  I  am  a  man 
of  peace.  But  thinkest  thou  he  has  in  him  the  stuff 
whereof  good  husbands  are  made?" 

"  He  shall  never  be  Wilhelmina's  husband !  "  Hans 
asserted  roughly.  "  He  would  break  her  heart  —  to  say 
naught  of  Bilder's.  Jan,  he  is  but  a  breeze  that  kisses 
one  flower  after  another,  then  is  gone  his  way." 

"Kisses?"  Jan  repeated  with  disrelish. 

"Ay,  kisses,  Jan.  Wilhelmina  is  as  true  as  the  com- 
pass before  Columbus  took  it  to  America.  Speak  not 
of  marriage  between  a  star  and  an  ocean  wave." 

"  But  Hans,  what  if  she  embark  upon  this  wave?  " 

"  By  St.  Bavon,  he  shall  never  have  her !  "  cried  the 
Holland  Wolf.  "  His  affections  go  trooping  along,  slaves 
to  his  errant  fancies.  Even  these  toothless  old  crones 
of  our  company,  —  they  be  women,  —  that  is  enough  for 
Belle-Isle.  And  the  little  girls  who  are  not  too  ugly, — 
he  has  no  stomach  for  the  boys,  —  those  little  girls  he 
kisses  on  their  dirty  mouths.  It  is  so  pitiful  to  see  the 
lads  looking  up  to  him  for  a  smile;  but  no,  they  be 
males,  he  heeds  them  not.  Now,  Bilder  knows  I  am  a 
man  of  strategy.  I  follow  him  in  straight  roads ;  but 
when  we  come  to  crooked  paths,  he  clings  to  my  skirts. 
Let  us  flee  to  Zutphen  this  moment.  When  he  finds  us 
gone,  his  pride  will  turn  him  from  Wilhelmina's  door." 

"  I  like  this  plot,"  cried  Jan ;  "  no  more  words  !  "  Jan 
hurriedly  got  astride  of  his  mule  and  Hans  trudged  along 
by  his  side.  When  they  had  gone  some  distance  the 

326 


HANS    ATTEMPTS    STRATEGY 

rider  dismounted,  insisting  that  Hans  should  take  his 
turn.  Hans  mounted ;  but  the  mule  had  lapsed  into  one 
of  her  quiet  moods  and  she  would  not  start.  Hans, 
according  to  Jan's  directions,  ran  down  the  road,  pul- 
ling the  animal  by  the  bridle,  while  Jan  rushed  ahead  to 
encourage  her.  "  Be  ready  to  vault  upon  her  at  my 
word ! "  panted  Jan.  He  was  a  swift  runner  in  spite  of 
his  flesh.  All  went  at  a  smart  trot,  Hans  keeping  one 
hand  upon  the  mule's  back. 

"  She  is  working  up  finely,"  gasped  Jan ;  "  every 
muscle  is  limbering.  Be  ready.  Now  —  LEAP!" 

At  that  instant  the  mule  stopped.  Hans  would  cer- 
tainly have  alighted  upon  the  beast  had  she  been  where 
she  should.  As  it  was,  he  sprang  upon  Jan  and  rode  him 
to  earth. 

"  The  saints  looking  down !  "  exclaimed  Hans  scram- 
bling to  his  feet.  "  Jan,  have  I  killed  thee  ?  " 

"  I  think  it,"  said  Jan  feebly.  He  could  say  no  more, 
for  those  three  words  used  all  the  air  left  in  his  great 
body. 

"I  will  kill  that  beast!"  roared  Hans. 

An  unexpected  voice  exclaimed,  "  What !  has  the  Hol- 
land Wolf  turned  soldier  against  mules?  Then  I  come 
as  reinforcements.  Take  her  in  the  rear,  Hans.  I  will 
make  a  sortie  upon  her  vanguard." 

"  By  St.  Bavon  !     It  is  Belle-Isle  !  " 

Jan  staggered  to  his  feet.  "  Why,"  he  said,  regaining 
his  breath  by  slow  degrees,  "  art "  —  a  long  puff,  — 
"thou  —  here?" 

"And  why  thou?"  retorted  Belle-Isle?  "Ha,  ha! 

327 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

All  three  play  the  same  game ! "  He  began  to  laugh 
but  could  not  stop.  "  Oh,  Jan  !  Oh,  Hans  !  Who  would 
have  suspected  this  of  you?" 

"  Suspected  what?  "  demanded  Hans  sheepishly. 

"  Now  I  said  to  myself,  '  Belle-Isle,  let  us  run  away 
from  these  miserables  and  leave  Jan  and  Hans  as  part- 
ners to  their  misery  !  '  It  was  a  noble  thing  to  collect 
and  herd  together  those  homeless  ones,  but  why  make 
a  noble  deed  common  by  long  continuance?  One  must 
be  brave  to  begin  a  kind  deed,  but  one  must  have  pa- 
tience to  stick  to  it.  Behold  !  you  two  were  fleeing  even 
as  I  fled !  Now  no  one  stands  guard  over  those  tears 
and  sorrows  !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

"  Let  us  return,"  said  Jan  abruptly. 

"  Think  what  thou  mayest,  Belle- Isle,"  said  Hans. 
"  Back  we  go ;  our  flight  is  over." 

"  What  say  you,"  cried  Belle-Isle,  "  let  us  all  three  run 
off!" 

"  Back  we  go  !  "  said  Jan,  mounting  cautiously.  "  We 
cannot  desert  the  helpless  in  afflic —  She  moves !  she 
moves !  " 

"  Hurrah !  "  cried  Belle-Isle  cheerfully.  "  The  fleeing 
army  rallies.  Forward,  Jan ;  forward,  Hans ;  forward 
Belle-Isle !  "  They  returned  to  the  cabin.  Two  days 
later  they  reached  Zutphen.  The  fugitives  were  given 
in  charge  of  the  burgomaster,  while  Jan  conducted  Hans 
and  Belle-Isle  to  his  father's  house. 


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Chapter   Three 

THE  SPARK  IN  WILHELMINAS  EYE 

IN  answer  to  Jan's  knock,  his  father  opened  the 
door.     "  It  is  Jan  !  "  shouted  Hendrik,  throwing 
his  arms  as  far  around  his  son  as  they  would  go. 
"Jan?"    echoed   the   voice    of  Wilhelmina   from 
within,  "  give  him  to  me,  father." 

"  I  am  here,  too,"  shouted  Hans,  "  will  I  not  do  for 
thee,  Wilhelmina?  Good  Jan,  do  not  blockade  the  door 
with  thy  body." 

"  My  brother  is  safe  !  "  cried  Wilhelmina,  laughing  and 
crying  on  Jan's  shoulder.  Jan  pushed  her  gently  away 
and  discovered  Kenau  standing  beside  her  aunt. 

"  Come,  Kenau,"  he  said  gently,  and  led  her  into  the 
next  room.  When  the  door  was  closed  upon  them  Belle- 
Isle  told  the  news  of  Joost's  martyrdom.  Vrouw  van 
Boendale  sat  with  hands  covering  her  face,  while  her  old 
friend  Hendrik  bent  over  her,  his  hand -upon  her  head. 
Wilhelmina  advanced  to  Belle-Isle,  presently,  her  hands 
clasped.  She  was  very  pale  and  tears  shone  in  her  eyes. 
It  suddenly  occurred  to  the  Frenchman  that  perhaps  she 
was  beautiful,  after  all.  "  Belle-Isle,"  she  said  gently, 
"  thou  hast  much  to  forgive  me."  He  did  not  know  to 

329 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

what  she  referred,  for  he  was  not  one  with  whom  the 
past  lingers.  He  looked  at  her  blankly.  "  Forgive 
what,  lady?" 

"  My  treatment  of  thee  when  last  we  met." 

He  tried  hard  to  remember,  but  his  mind  was  hazy  in 
regard  to  Wilhelmina ;  he  had  thought  of  other  ladies 
since  their  parting.  "  I  know  not  thy  meaning,  Wilhel- 
mina. But  I  know  thou  art  the  prettiest  maid  I  have 
espied  in  many  a  barren  day." 

"  Thou  seekest  to  spare  my  pride,"  she  said  softly. 
"  But  many  a  night  have  I  wept  because  I  insulted 
thee.  Thank  God,  now  I  have  this  chance  of  suing  thy 
pardon." 

"  Yes,  Belle-Isle,  "  spoke  up  Hendrik,"  and  all  escaped 
except  dear  Joost."  Vrouw  van  Boendale  sobbed. 

"  Ah,"  said  Belle-Isle  slowly,  "  we  were  in  the  prison, 
—  it  is  true.  My  heart  bled  for  thee,  Wilhelmina.  I 
thought  by  preserving  my  liberty  I  might  obtain 
thine." 

"  Alas  !  "  cried  Wilhelmina,  "  we  heaped  reproaches 
upon  thee,  thinking  thee  a  traitor.  And  all  the  time 
thou,  in  pure  innocence,  wast  devising  our  happiness." 

"  Why,  how  it  all  comes  back !  "  said  Belle-Isle,  his 
face  lighting  up.  "  I  had  forgotten  thine  unkind  words, 
Wilhelmina.  Truly,  thy  reproachful  look  did  not  stick 
in  my  memory  so  long  as  it  takes  my  mind  to  turn  over; 
that  is  no  lengthy  period." 

"  As  we  stood  before  the  Blood  Council,"  said 
Hendrik,  "  it  needed  but  a  glance  into  the  faces  of  Juan 
de  Vargas  and  Del  Rio — the  only  ones  who  can  vote 

33° 


SPARK    IN    WILHELMINA'S    EYE 

—  to  know  our  verdict.  The  clerk  called  a  list  of  fifty 
whose  trial  was  set  for  that  day,  but  De  Vargas  at  each 
name  said,  '  He  has  already  been  strangled,'  and  Del  Rio 
would  laugh.  When  they  came  to  us,  De  Vargas  swept 
the  manuscripts  containing  the  evidence  into  a  great 
basket,  crying,  '  What  shall  we  do  with  them?  '  Hessels, 
our  own  countryman,  started  from  a  heavy  sleep,  crying, 
'  To  the  scaffold ! '  Then  it  was  that  the  Grand  Prior, 
Don  Ferdinando,  rushed  into  the  room,  crying  us  very 
good  Catholics.  And  so  we  were,  —  but  I  cannot  say 
so  much  for  ourselves,  now !  But  Joost  would  not  be 
saved.  He  cried  out  that  he  was  a  reformer,  and  would 
give  his  life  as  an  argument  for  his  cause." 

"  That  was  a  course  such  as  I  might  choose  —  in  a 
sudden  heat  of  enthusiasm,"  cried  Belle-Isle. 

"  Noble  Belle-Isle  !  "  exclaimed  Wilhelmina,  her  eyes 
burning,  "  how  I  have  misjudged  thee !  Thou  hast  not 
treasured  my  wicked  words  against  thee !  Thou  art 
better  than  I." 

"  Say  not  so,"  shouted  Hans.  "  He  cannot  think  of 
a  thing  long  enough  to  clamp  it  upon  his  memory.  That 
is  why  he  forgot  thine  unkind  words." 

"  Peace  !"  cried  Wilhelmina  sternly.  "  His  nature  is 
above  thy  comprehension." 

"  Now  that  is  true,"  exclaimed  Belle-Isle.  "  I  did  not 
know  I  was  so  noble  in  heart.  But  it  was  generous  to 
forget  thy  look.  Surely  there  is  a  different  stuff  in  me 
from  that  whereof  other  men  are  made  !  " 

"  Thou  hast  a  noble  heart,"  said  Wilhelmina,  extending 
her  hand.  He  kissed  it  eagerly  and  a  blush  swept  over 

331 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

her  face  as  she  looked  down  upon  his  curls.  Hans 
groaned. 

"Dear  Hans,"  said  Wilhelmina,  suddenly  turning  to 
hide  her  confusion,  "  I  have  given  thee  no  greeting,  for 
the  news  of  Father  Joost  saddens  our  eyes  even  to  the 
face  of  a  friend.  But  here  is  my  hand." 

"  Give  me  the  other  to  kiss,"  said  Hans.  "  I  will  not 
take  the  hand  Belle-Isle  has  mumbled.  Oh,  what  a 
little  hand,  and  how  sweet  it  tastes !  By  St.  Bavon, 
it  reminds  me  that  I  have  not  supped  this  day ! 
Dear  Wilhelmina,  hast  aught  in  the  house  by  way  of 
victuals?  " 

"  How  thoughtless  we  have  been !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  A  cold  roast?  "  he  asked  gently ;  "  a  ham?  " 

"  There  is  a  fine  joint  of  meat,  Hans." 

"  An  onion?  "  he  insinuated.     Belle-Isle  groaned. 

She  glanced  at  the  Frenchman  doubtfully,  then  said, 
"  I  am  afraid  there  are  no  onions,  Hans." 

The  blood  rushed  to  Belle-Isle's  face.  He  had  gained 
a  step  in  a  new  conquest. 

In  the  meantime  Jan  and  Kenau  had  entered  a  square 
room,  low  ceiled  with  polished  wood.  The  bayed 
window  was  open,  and  a  fragrant  breeze  puffed  at  the 
billowing  curtains.  Though  the  sunlight  had  vanished, 
the  wide-awake  July  day  refused  to  darken  its  candle 
and  retire.  It  loitered  in  the  streets  and  threw  its 
light  upon  Kenau's  face,  showing  Jan  the  only  woman 
he  had  ever  loved.  She  kept  her  eyes  upon  his  face; 
why  did  he  not  speak?  Was  her  father  still  in  the 

332 


SPARK    IN    WILHELMINA'S    EYE 

dungeons  of  the  Inquisition?  She  wished  to  put  the 
news  from  her  as  long  as  possible. 

"  Jan,  I  have  grieved  because  I  let  thee  go  to  Brussels. 
If  evil  had  befallen  thee,  I  should  have  been  the  cause. 
I  thank  the  good  God  thou  art  safe  with  us !  " 

Jan  regarded  her  in  solemn  wonder.  Was  this  the 
coquette  who  had  always  laughed  at  him?  How 
changed  she  seemed  !  "  Kenau,  I  bring  thee  news  from 
Brussels." 

"  Yes  —  but  do  not  tell  it  yet.  Jan,  I  have  been 
so  unkind  to  thee,  yes,  for  years  I  have  put  thy  words 
aside  with  cruel  mirth !  But  my  heart  never  laughed 
with  my  lips,  Jan.  I  know  thee  well,  thou  steady,  trusty 
friend.  Didst  hear  of  my  father?  " 

"  I  heard.     I  do  not  bring  thee  glad  tidings." 

"Of  course;  what  glad  tidings  come  from  Brussels? 
Is  not  my  father  a  brave  man?  When  we  took  advan- 
age  of  the  Grand  Prior's  aid,  dost  recall  how  my  father 
stood  forth,  crying,  '  I  am  of  the  reformed  religion  '  ?  I 
had  not  courage  to  step  to  his  side  —  to  be  strangled  in 
a  barrel  on  the  scaffold  —  I  thought  of  that.  But  my 
father  feared  nothing." 

"  He  was  very  brave,  Kenau ;  brave  even  to  the 
last." 

"  Yes,  first  and  last  he  is  Joost  van  Boendale.  And  I 
am  his  daughter,  —  a  glorious  thought !  But  I  have 
not  treated  thee  as  becomes  his  daughter.  I  shall  never 
hide  my  heart  from  thee  again." 

"Think  not  of  me,"  groaned  Jan,  "for  I  must  tell  —  " 

"  Not  yet.  Oh,  see  how  bright  is  the  world.  Let  us 
333 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

not  bring  sorrow  into  it.  This  breeze  reminds  me  of  the 
seaside  where  we  built  dykes  as  children,  my  father  look- 
ing on.  Has  he  come  to  trial?" 

"  He  was  condemned,  Kenau." 

"  Of  course.  But  we  cannot  tell  what  will  happen. 
Perhaps  Don  Ferdinando  —  He  would  like  to  live 
here  in  Zutphen.  Your  father  says  he  can  have  the 
little  room  over  the  upper  balcony." 

"  He  will  never  come  to  thee,"  said  Jan. 

"  Never,  Jan?  But,  oh,  he  must  come  ;  I  have  no  one 
to  protect  me  but  my  father.  Some  day,  Jan  ?  Never?  " 
She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  sobbed.  "  Jan 
—  I  know.  But  let  us  not  speak  the  words." 

Jan  rested  his  hand  upon  the  bowed  head.  A  great 
light  had  entered  the  inner  chamber  of  his  heart  where 
for  years  fear  and  self-distrust  had  held  close  the  blinds. 
But  he  did  not  slip  his  arm  about  her  nor  bend  to  kiss 
the  white  face  that  rested  against  his  shoulder.  He  stood 
in  silence,  his  hand  upon  her  hair  as  a  father  might  have 
soothed  his  child.  For  this  was  Jan ;  not  Belle-Isle. 


334 


Chapter  Four 

THE    WINNING   OF  WILHELMINA 

ABOUT   a    month   later   a  small,  sleek  mule 
bearing    a    man   of  enormous    proportions, 
drew  near  the  bridge  leading  over  the  Yssel 
to   the   gates   of  Zutphen.     The   man   was 
Hans  Foot,  and  one  could  see  at  a  glance  that  he  had 
worked  harder  than  his  beast,    to   advance    upon    his 
return  journey.     At  the  foot  of  the  bridge  the  mule  sud- 
denly  stopped.     With    a   horrible    growl   the    Holland 
Wolf  dismounted.     "  Out  of  my  way !  "  he  shouted  to 
the  foot  passengers ;  then,  grasping  the  bridle,  he  bent 
his  head,  and  prepared  to  rush  forward.     At  that  mo- 
ment a  firm  grip  caught  his  arm.     With  an  angry  shout 
Hans  wheeled  about  and  confronted  his  old  comrade, 
Bilder  Kopperzoon. 

They  fell  into  each  other's  arms.  "Thou  shaggy 
dog !  "  cried  Hans  in  a  rapture,  "  I  feared  thou  wouldst 
not  come  to  do  me  battle.  But  Count  Louis?  " 

"  Safe  in  Germany.  Not  come  to-day,  thou  beef- 
headed  wolf  ?  Well,  in  the  battle  of  the  Ems,  I  feared 
I  should  not  be  spared  to  slay  thee.  But  God  feeds 
us  when  we  make  our  own  dough.  Where  shall  we 
fight  ?  " 

335 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"There  is  a  lovely  spot  in  yonder  grove.  Let  us  not 
enter  the  city,  but  to  it  with  stout  hearts." 

"  My  fancy  jumps  to  catch  thy  words,"  Bilder  de- 
clared. "  I  love  thee,  Hans,  but  thou  must  die  for 
Wilhelmina's  sake,  thou  bristling  boar !  " 

"  Not  I,"  grinned  Hans ;  "  I  will  lay  thine  uncombed 
dog's  head  where  it  will  never  whimper  for  Wilhelmina 
again.  Let  us  walk,  for  that  will  best  please  my  mule. 
Jan  sent  me  to  Delft  for  a  bit  of  china  for  Kenau :  he 
loves  her  very  well.  I  am  just  returning.  Now,  if  I 
fall,  wilt  take  to  him  the  gift  ?  " 

"  Fear  not,  Hans,  I  will  take  all  thy  possessions.  No- 
body will  ever  miss  thee.  I  would  I  could  snatch  the 
plots  out  of  thy  brains  also." 

"  Ay,  Bilder,  but  a  man's  plots  die  with  him." 

"  Well,  Hans,  they  never  came  to  anything." 

"  True,"  said  Hans.  "  When  put  into  practice  they 
brought  us  ill,  but  in  the  devising  they  warmed  our 
fancy.  Draw  thy  sword  :  Wilhelmina  to  the  victor  !  " 

In  the  grove  they  embraced  in  loving  farewell. 
"Would  to  heaven,  Bilder,  a  plot  would  come  to  pre- 
vent this  duel.  Why  not  draw  straws  for  Wilhelmina, 
—  the  biggest  straw  to  the  husband  ?  " 

"  Thou  uncouth  Dutchman  !  "  said  Bilder.  "  Could 
either  of  us  endure  life  seeing  the  other  married  unto 
her?" 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Hans  doubtfully,  "  it  would  break 
the  heart  of  the  one  with  the  short  straw." 

"  Of  course,  thou  blockhead  !  Couldst  eat  thy  victuals 
while  thinking  of  me  a-kissing  my  wife  Wilhelmina?" 

336 


THE    WINNING    OF   WILHELMINA 

"  I  suppose  such  thinking,"  mused  Hans  sadly, 
"  would  take  strength  out  of  the  hottest  onion  that 
ever  held  heat  in  its  bowels.  Well,  fall  to,  thou  rugged 
old  lumbering  Dutchman,  and  pray  God  for  the  long 
straw  !  "  Their  swords  clashed. 

"  Stay  !  "  suddenly  came  a  voice.  "  By  Belle-Isle, 
cannot  the  Spaniards  kill  us  fast  enough?  Death  has 
many  friends  in  Holland !  " 

The  combatants  paused.  "  Away,  Belle-Isle  !  "  said 
Hans  peevishly,  "  we  are  but  getting  heated  to  blood- 
spilling,  when  thy  icy  voice  comes  like  a  cold  hand 
down  the  collar." 

"  Back  to  thy  convent !  "  shouted  Bilder. 

"  But  do  not  kill  Hans,"  cried  the  Frenchman,  "  for  I 
need  him  to  go  upon  a  journey." 

"  Go  upon  thine  own  journeys !  "  retorted  Hans. 
"  We  have  met  to  fight  for  the  sweetest  maiden  that 
ever  cooked  a  dainty  mess  for  hungry  friends.  Come 
on,  thou  dough-face,  thou  towsled  Bilder  Kopperzoon  !  " 

"  A  moment !  ' '  shouted  Belle-Isle,  beginning  to  laugh. 

"  Hans,"  said  Bilder,  "  let  us  stand  him  between  us 
and  thrust  at  each  other  through  his  body." 

"  Bilder  Kopperzoon,"  cried  Hans  indignantly,  "  art 
thou  a  maker  of  plots,  or  am  I?  Thou  knowest  nothing 
of  stratagem  and  this  plan  of  thine  is  folly." 

"  Then  plot  me  this  fellow's  head  off  his  shoulders," 
retorted  Bilder,  "  or  I  will  make  an  end  of  him  without 
plots,  Hans  Foot !  " 

"  Belle-Isle,"  said  Hans,  "  explain  thy  laughter,  or  re- 
ceive a  hole  in  the  other  side  of  thy  head." 
22  337 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  In  truth,  Hans,  I  think  it  a  merry  thing  that  you 
should  fight  for  Wilhelmina,  who  has  for  five  days  been 
my  very  dear  wife." 

"  Thy  wife  ?  "  they  cried  together. 

"  Ay.  This  journey  to  Delft  was  but  a  device  to  get 
thee  away;  for  we  thought  the  wedding-supper  would 
prove  for  thee  one  meal  too  many." 

Bilder  turned  upon  him  a  haggard  face.  "  The  love 
she  feels  for  thee  is  thy  safeguard.  But  God  pity  Wil- 
helmina !  By  St.  Bavon  !  if  thou  ever  bring  sorrow  into 
her  life  —  " 

"Nay,  friends,"  said  Belle-Isle,  quietly,  "why  should 
I  ever  give  sorrow  to  my  wife?  " 

"  Thy  wife  !  "  Bilder  growled  chokingly.  He  turned 
suddenly  and  fled  from  the  grove. 

"  Thy  wife !  "  echoed  Hans.  "  I  also  would  rush 
away,  did  not  this  accursed  mule  plant  her  legs  toward 
the  four  points." 

"  Dear  Hans,  hear  me.  Wilhelmina  is  my  wife,  so 
think  of  other  women,  for  the  world  is  running  over 
with  other  women.  Wilhelmina  sends  thee  a  request : 
wilt,  for  her  sake,  go  to  Leyden  in  behalf  of  a  poor  dam- 
sel who  is  also  a  pretty  damsel,  yes,  a  sweet  child  such 
as  I  —  I  mean  —  But  it  is  best  for  thee  not  to  see  my 
wife  just  yet." 

"What  of  the  damsel,  if  it  is  Wilhelmina's  wish?" 
said  Hans  sullenly. 

"Her  name  is  Anna  van  der  Loren,  —  I  have  spoken 
of  her  to  thee  as  Bluemask.  Her  ways  are  so  winning ! 
A  Spanish  soldier  stole  her  heart,  for  she  was  too  young 

338 


THE   WINNING    OF    WILHELMINA 

to  build  a  tower  of  wisdom  to  defend  her  love.  Now  I 
have  discovered  that  this  Spaniard  is  but  a  disguised 
woman.  I  was  forced  to  make  oath  I  would  not  re- 
veal the  secret,  so  even  now  Anna  thinks  her  lover 
a  man." 

"  And  did  they  marry  ?  "  inquired  Hans. 

"Not  they.  Wilt  go  and  undeceive  Anna?  Yester- 
day came  permission  from  the  Spanish  lady,  so  I  am  re- 
leased from  my  vow.  See ! "  Belle-Isle  handed  the 
other  a  parchment. 

"  These  marks,"  said  Hans,  "  are  written  words,  I  war- 
rant me." 

"  Of  course.  Wilt  undeceive  the  poor  maid  who 
thinks  herself  in  love,  and  cannot  be  comforted?  " 

"  I  have  not  been  in  this  world  for  nothing,"  said  Hans, 
staring  at  the  parchment,  "  I  know  writing  when  I  see  it." 

"  But  hast  thou  read  the  message,  Hans?" 

"  Not  I ;  if  thou  standest  there  till  I  do  we  shall  have 
Wilhelmina  a  widow.  What  have  I  to  do  with  reading, 
when  I  can  get  any  bare-legged  mendicant  priest  in  the 
land  to  read  me  to  sleep?  " 

"This  is  the  writing,  Hans: 
"  '  Tell  her  all. 

"  Enrique.'  " 

"  I  will  go,  Belle-Isle.  Write  a  letter  making  all  plain. 
Ah,  how  impatient  was  I  to  return  home  where  there  is 
so  much  happiness,  —  for  other  people  !  " 

"  Courage,  good  Hans,  here  is  the  letter,  which  I 
have  already  written  dear  Bluemask,  —  so  dainty  a  flower  ! 
—  the  innocence  of  her  child's  heart  gives  fragrance  to 

339 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

her  wildest  behavior.  Go,  Hans,  and  take  hope.  Every- 
thing ends  well,  at  last.  The  world  is  full  of  other 
women !  " 

By  the  time  Hans  reached  Leyden,  a  journey  of  fifty 
miles,  the  eccentricity  of  his  mule  had  done  much  to  ac- 
custom him  to  the  thought  of  Wilhelmina's  marriage. 
He  learned  in  Leyden  that  Gerbrand  and  Josephine 
were  gone  to  Delft  to  consult  a  physician  in  regard  to 
their  daughter.  There  was  some  hesitation  about  ad- 
mitting Hans  on  account  of  his  wild  looks,  but  he  gained 
admission  by  stating  that  he  came  in  Belle-Isle's  name. 
He  was  conducted  to  Anna,  who  sat  in  the  garden  sur- 
rounded by  those  Holland  flowers  which  were  the  envy 
of  Europe.  She  had  already  sent  her  attendants  away, 
but  when  she  caught  sight  of  the  gigantic  Hans,  crowned 
by  bristling  locks,  she  darted  timid  glances  which  caused 
the  Holland  Wolf  to  wish  himself  gentler  of  aspect.  She 
was  so  wan  and  slight  that  his  heart  ached  for  her. 

"  Lady,"  he  tried  to  speak  softly,  but  the  hoarse  growl 
caused  her  to  start  up  in  alarm,  "  be  not  afraid  of  poor, 
harmless,  good-natured  Hans  Foot,  who  never  killed  a 
fly  without  first  suffering  tortures  from  its  tickling  legs. 
Be  seated,  —  I  bring  good  news.  Dost  still  fear  poor 
Hans?  It  is  a  joke  of  Holland  how  one  may  cuff"  me 
without  drawing  one  blow  out  of  my  fist." 

"  Forgive  my  alarm,"  she  answered  trembling,  "  but 
my  parents  are  absent,  and  —  and  I  beseech  thee  come  no 
nearer  —  I  am  such  an  invalid  —  forgive  me.  But,  — 
good  news?" 

34° 


THE    WINNING    OF    WILHELMINA 

"  Ay,  delicious.  I  will  kneel  here  in  the  grass ;  who 
fears  a  man  when  he  is  upon  his  knees?  Here,  take  my 
stick,  and  when  terror  knocks  at  thy  heart,  whack  me 
athwart  the  cheek:  thou  art  pining  away  for  want  of 
exercise." 

"  I  am  foolish  to  fear  so  kind  a  messenger.  But  is 
the  news  of —  of —  of —  " 

"  Of  that  very  one,  that  Enrique  de  Oviedo." 
"Oh,  tell  me  what  good  news  can  come  of  him?  " 
"  Why,  have  it  then ;  he  is  a  woman  and  that  is  the 
point.     Heardst  ever   the   like    of  such   joyful   intelli- 
gence? " 

"  A  woman  !     Nay,  nay,  Enrique  is  no  coward." 
"  Coward  or  no,  he  is  a  maiden,  so  thou  canst  not 
continue  to  mourn  for  him,  since  he  is  she." 

"  God  defend  me,  "  murmured  Anna,  "  he  is  mad !  " 
"  I  tell  thee,"  cried  Hans,  "  that  Enrique  is  no  more 
a  man  than  I  am  a  woman.  Enrique  is  a  plot,  —  Oh, 
that  I  had  thought  of  it !  But  why  dost  look  upon  me  as 
if  I  were  a  Spaniard  ?  Read  Belle-Isle's  letter,  then  laugh 
with  me.  Thou  wilt  not  pine  for  a  woman,  I  trow. 
There  was  never  a  marriage  in  the  world,  but  some  man 
was  mixed  up  in  it.  Read  me  this  letter,  —  I  pray 
heaven  Belle-Isle  has  slipped  no  words  therein  to  do 
mischief!  " 

It  was   a   long  letter,  setting  forth  Rosamunda's  life- 
story.     Anna's  face  whitened  with  the  first  lines.     Pres- 
ently the  sheets  dropped  from  her  hands.     She  started 
up  with  a  cry,  tottered,  and  fainted  in  Hans's  great  arms. 
"  Varlets  ! "  shouted  Hans.     "  Help,  ho  !     Thank  God 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

I  never  learned  to  read  !  "  Servants  ran  to  his  assistance. 
"  Nay,  nay,"  cried  Hans,  "  I  will  carry  her ;  lead  the  way." 
Not  daring  to  interfere,  they  led  him  to  her  bedroom. 
He  placed  the  fragile  form  upon  the  bed  with  the  ten- 
derness of  a  woman.  "  Now  get  your  restoratives," 
he  ordered,  "  and  fear  not ;  I  have  given  her  a  strong 
medicine,  but  it  will  cure  her  when  it  begins  to  work. 
When  does  her  father  return?  " 

"  This  afternoon,  your  worship." 

"  I  shall  wait  for  him  in  the  garden." 

Hans  retired  to  the  bench  where  he  had  first  seen 
Anna.  "  I  do  not  understand  myself,"  he  reflected. 
"  Why  aches  not  my  heart  for  Wilhelmina?  "  He  smote 
himself  vigorously  upon  the  breast.  "  It  aches  not.  I 
dare  say  Bilder  is  groaning  out  his  heart  for  her.  O 
Wilhelmina,  so  skilful  in  cookery,  so  strong  and  sturdy ! 
O  Wilhelmina  !  "  He  smote  himself  again,  then  looked 
up  with  a  wrinkled  brow.  "  It  aches  not."  He  rose. 

"  Now  would  it  not  be  well  to  marry a  dainty 

maiden  that  one  may  carry?  But  hear  my  words! 
They  must  contain  wisdom,  for  a  rhyme  was  born  with- 
out a  poet  for  its  father."  He  strode  to  the  house  and 
called  the  seneschal.  "  Good  seneschal,  I  pray  thee," 
said  Hans,  "  send  one  of  thy  varlets  with  me  to  direct 
me  to  a  barber." 


342 


Chapter  Five 

JAN  STANDS  BY   WILHELMINA 

A5OUT  a  month  after  Belle-Isle's  marriage  to 
Wilhelmina,  Jan  Janssen  determined  to  ask 
Vrouw  van  Boendale  for  her  niece's  hand. 
Jan  imagined  himself  already  a  partner  in  his 
father's  house  of  merchandise,  accumulating  riches  for 
Kenau.         She    would    continue    to    live    in    Hendrik's 
home,  but  she  would   be  Jan's   wife.     There  was  a   dif- 
ference. 

He  found  Vrouw  van  Boendale  alone  and  said  at 
once :  "  I  want  to  marry  Kenau." 

She  was  not  displeased.  "  I  have  long  observed,  Jan, 
thy  attachment  for  my  niece.  I  know  not  what  she 
may  say  - 

"  I  know  well  enough,"  said  Jan,  sorry  to  have  her 
waste  words.  "  All  I  ask  is  thy  consent." 

"  I  grant  it  freely,  for  thou  art  as  a  son,  Hendrik  as  a 
brother.  Well,  well,  I  shall  live  to  see  my  last  relative 
taken  from  me,  but  I  shall  not  despair.  The  memory 
of  my  illustrious  ancestor  has  lifted  me  over  many  a 
dreary  hour.  I  say  to  myself,  '  I  am  descended  from 
Jan  von  Boendale ;  I  must  prove  worthy  of  my  descent.' 

343 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

One  cannot  tell  through  life  what  sorrow  is  hid  around 
the  corner;  but  one  has  always  one's  illustrious  ances- 
tor. Nobody  can  take  him  from  me.  Ay,  Jan,  go  to 
Kenau." 

Jan  put  off  going  till  the  next  day  because  he  dis- 
liked haste.  That  night,  as  he  was  passing  through  the 
darkened  hall,  some  one  threw  her  arms  about  him,  and 
sobbed  convulsively  upon  his  bosom.  It  was  Wilhel- 
mina.  Jan  was  not  one  to  voice  surprise.  He  opened 
his  mouth,  but  held  his  breath. 

"  Oh,  my  brother !  "  gasped  Wilhelmina. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked  in  a  fierce  whisper. 

Her  form  shook  harder  as  she  drew  close  to  his 
breast.  "  Jan  !  Oh,  brother,  thou  wilt  never  desert  me? 
Stand  by  me,  Jan,  always,  always  !  " 

"  Like  a  rock  !  "  said  Jan. 

"  Thou  faithful  Jan !  Thou  hast  but  one  sister. 
Thou  wilt  not  desert  her?" 

"  Always  count  me  one  for  thee  !  "  cried  Jan,  bewil- 
dered. To  himself  he  said,  "  It  must  be  Belle-Isle !  " 
She  left  him  in  silence,  and  on  the  morrow  appeared  as 
usual.  From  that  time  Jan  watched  Belle-Isle.  All 
dwelt  together.  The  Frenchman  had  nothing  of  his 
own  to  live  upon,  except  his  happy  disposition.  Hen- 
drik,  who  had  conveyed  the  greater  part  of  his  wealth 
from  Brussels,  had  purchased  the  stock  of  a  Zutphen 
merchant ;  it  was  his  hope  that  his  son  and  son-in-law 
would  continue  the  business  when  Time  should  seek  to 
buy  with  the  promise  of  restful  years  his  consent  to 
grow  old.  As  all  sat  in  a  semicircle  about  the  hearth 

344 


JAN    STANDS    BY    WILHELMINA 

Hendrik  hinted  often  that  Belle-Isle  would  do  well  to 
visit  the  shop,  and  learn  to  direct  the  apprentices.  But 
Belle-Isle  would  listen  with  a  far-away  look  in  his  eyes ; 
when  his  wife  touched  his  hand  timidly,  he  would  start 
as  if  recalled  from  a  dream.  In  the  September  after- 
noons he  spent  hours  upon  the  Yssel  wharves  staring 
into  the  river. 

Jan  did  not  speak  to  Kenau,  and  he  pretended  not  to 
notice  the  wistful  glance  that  visited  him  after  his  con- 
versation with  her  aunt.  He  was  standing  by  Wilhel- 
mina.  He  discovered  that  the  Frenchman  was  growing 
thin.  Wilhelmina  one  night  tried  to  persuade  him  to 
eat  more.  Her  manner  was  timid. 

"  I  am  never  hungry,  now,"  said  Belle-Isle,  kindly. 
He  rose  from  the  table,  though  he  had  but  just  seated 
himself,  and  started  from  the  room.  Then  he  came 
back  and  rested  his  hand  gently  upon  his  wife's  head. 
A  blush  of  pleasure  spread  over  her  face  and  neck. 
Jan  caught  his  breath  and  looked  at  Kenau.  Hendrik 
smiled  at  Vrouw  van  Boendale.  Suddenly  everybody 
was  happy  — 

Except  Belle-Isle.  After  supper  they  gathered  about 
the  fire,  for  in  that  land  it  grows  cold  when  the  Septem- 
ber sun  sinks  into  the  sea.  Hendrik  dwelt  upon  the  time 
when  Jan  would  oversee  the  selling  of  merchandise  and 
Belle-Isle  go  on  trading  expeditions.  Belle-Isle  stared 
into  the  fire. 

"  He  will  see  the  gay  world,"  said  Vrouw  van  Boen- 
dale, "  and  I  know  he  will  take  Wilhelmina  with  him." 
Wilhelmina  gave  her  husband  a  timid  glance,  but  he  did 

345 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

not  see  it.  "  But  they  must  be  careful  lest  the  weeds  of 
earthly  pleasure  choke  up  their  minds.  It  is  bad  reli- 
gion to  be  too  happy." 

Wilhelmina  touched  his  hand ;  he  took  it,  but  did  not 
look  round.  "  When  my  husband  lived,"  continued  the 
old  lady,  "  we  were  fearfully  gay.  We  went  to  balls, 
and  thought  nothing  of  staying  up  till  ten  o'clock  at 
night,  yes,  ten  o'clock !  Sometimes  we  did  not  arise 
till  the  sun  had  set  us  an  example  !  "  She  sighed. 
"  But  I  have  a  comfort,  Belle-Isle." 

Belle-Isle  dropped  Wilhelmina's  hand  and  looked 
about  uneasily. 

"  Yes,  a  comfort.  When  I  remember  those  wicked 
gayeties  —  nobody  dressed  finer  than  I  —  nobody  gave 
more  sumptuous  banquets  than  my  husband  —  wines, 
rich  liquors ;  when  I  would  pine  for  the  past,  I  remem- 
ber my  illustrious  —  " 

Belle-Isle  moved  restlessly. 

"  Ancestor.  I  recall  the  glory  of  the  author  of  '  Bra- 
bantsche  Yeetsen.'  I  say  to  myself— 

Belle-Isle  arose.  "I  know  thou  sayest  wise  words  to 
thyself,  but  pray  excuse  me,  —  a  faintness  —  "  He  left 
the  house  with  rapid  strides. 

"  Oh,  he  is  ill !  "  cried  Wilhelmina,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  I  will  seek  him,"  said  Jan.  He  hastened  after  the 
other  and  overtook  him  in  the  street.  "  Stay !  "  he 
cried,  grasping  Belle-Isle's  arm  fiercely,  "  what  is  the 
matter  with  thee  ?  " 

"  I  know  not,  Jan ;  I  am  ill." 

"  Then  what  art  thou  ill  of  ?  " 

346 


JAN    STANDS    BY    WILHELMINA 

"  Life,  Jan ;  life  makes  me  ill.  It  is  that  illustrious  an- 
cestor," cried  the  Frenchman  wildly.  "  I  say  that  illus- 
trious ancestor  is  wearing  my  soul  to  the  last  threads. 
And  thy  father's  talk  of  my  being  a  merchant.  And  our 
sitting  like  owls  in  a  semicircle  every  night." 

"  Brother,  what  has  made  thee  ill?  "  demanded  Jan  in 
a  voice  of  amazement.  "  What  talk  is  this?" 

"Let  us  return,"  said  Belle-Isle  resignedly.  "Thou 
hast  come  for  me,  take  me  back.  I  am  no  free  man." 

"  But  what  is  the  matter?  "  persisted  Jan. 

"  By  Belle-Isle,  I  have  been  a  fool  —  a  fool,  Jan  !  " 

"Yes,"  cried  Jan,  losing  his  temper;  "and,  by  Belle- 
Isle  !  thou  art  still  in  the  character." 

The  next  day  Belle-Isle  informed  his  wife  that  he  was 
about  to  set  forth  upon  a  journey.  As  he  kissed  her 
with  more  than  usual  tenderness,  the  tears  rushed  to  her 
eyes.  "  Oh,  my  husband  !  "  she  cried,  clinging  to  him, 
"tell  me  what  has  changed  thy  heart;  it  used  to  be  a 
home  of  sunshine." 

"  Alas,  Wilhelmina,  I  have  not  changed,"  he  said 
gently. 

He  rode  to  Leyden.  He  desired  to  see  little  Blue- 
mask  again,  because  she  was  a  part  of  his  past  — 
that  past  which  seemed  brighter  and  brighter  as  the 
present  days  placed  their  dull  histories  beside  its  ro- 
mance. After  he  had  talked  to  his  little  friend,  and 
sported  in  the  charm  of  her  innocence,  he  would  return 
to  Zutphen  and  resume  his  duty.  He  was  not  in  thought 
untrue  to  Wilhelmina,  but  his  nature  demanded  a 
holiday. 

347 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon  as  he  slipped  along  the 
flowering  hedge  of  the  familiar  garden  which  he  had 
often  visited  before  his  marriage.  Gerbrand  and  Jose- 
phine sat  upon  a  bench,  watching  their  daughter  with 
silent  pride.  Occasionally  they  would  look  at  each  other, 
as  if  to  say,  "  She  is  our  child  !  "  Belle-Isle  resolved  to 
enjoy  the  scene  before  making  his  presence  known. 

Anna  sat  upon  a  rustic  seat,  — but  how  different  from 
the  old  Bluemask !  How  bright  her  face !  Laughter 
flashed  in  her  eyes.  Her  little  mouth,  red  and  teasing, 
showed  little  pearls.  Belle^sle's  heart  leaped.  At 
Anna's  feet  lay  an  uncouth  form  whose  face  was  ever 
turned  up  toward  hers.  It  was  Hans  Foot,  but  he 
showed  a  great  change ;  his  hair  and  beard  had  been 
cut.  Belle-Isle  groaned.  He  was  as  large  as  ever,  but 
instead  of  his  leather  jerkin  he  wore  the  suit  of  a 
burgher. 

"  We  shall  see  then,"  called  Anna,  leaping  up  —  oh  ! 
how  like  a  little  fairy ! 

"  What  is  it,  darling?"  called  Josephine  fondly. 

"  Hans  says  he  can  run  as  well  as  fight !  "  returned 
Anna.  Josephine  looked  at  Gerbrand,  her  eyes  saying, 
"  What  a  marvel !  "  Gerbrand  nodded  emphatically. 
Anna  ran  down  the  path,  swift  as  a  flash  of  light.  Hans 
followed  as  close  as  a  shadow.  Not  far  from  Belle-Isle 
he  overtook  her  and  caught  her  hand.  They  struggled 
in  the  bushes. 

"  Just  the  hand  !  "  cried  the  Hollander.  "  I  only  want 
to  kiss  the  hand." 

"  No  !  "  cried  Anna,  trying  to  wrench  away. 

348 


JAN    STANDS    BY    WILHELMINA 

"  Just  the  hand,  Anna !  Thy  hand  is  so  far  from  thy 
mouth,  thy  mouth  should  not  say  nay  —  it  is  no  concern 
of  thy  mouth." 

"  But  my  mouth  will  call  my  father  if  thou  —  " 

"  Hear  a  secret,  Anna,"  whispered  Hans  hoarsely. 
"  The  Prince  of  Orange  has  brought  an  army  into  the 
country.  To-morrow  I  leave  to  fight  the  Spaniards." 

"  Oh,  Hans  !  thou  wilt  not  go  to  the  wars?  " 

"  Surely.     But  may  I  kiss  thy  hand  farewell?  " 

"  I  do  not  want  thee  to  leave  us,  Hans." 

Belle-Isle  slipped  from  his  hiding-place,  and  after  a 
brief  stay  at  the  inn,  set  forth  upon  his  return  journey. 
His  heart  was  dancing.  "  War,  war ! "  he  said  to 
himself,  "  there  is  my  remedy  !  " 

William  the  Silent  had  declared  war,  not  against  King 
Philip,  but  against  Alva.  Now  on  the  borders  of 
Brabant  he  was  rallying  about  him  the  boldest  spirits, 
exhibiting  the  motto,  "  Pro  Lege,  Rege,  Grege."  Hans 
and  Belle-Isle  once  more  found  themselves  comrades. 
Wilhelmina  grieved  for  her  husband,  but  not  as  she  had 
sorrowed  before  his  departure.  Sometimes  only  a  part- 
ing can  tell  us  that  we  are  loved.  "  Jan,"  she  said,  one 
day,  "  Kenau  looks  very  sad." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  her  way,"  said  Jan. 

"  It  did  not  use  to  be.  I  never  see  you  two  together. 
Jan,  dost  thou  not  love  Kenau?  " 

"  Love  is  a  strange  mystery,"  said  Jan. 

"  Sometimes  she  watches  thee,  Jan,  as  if  expecting 
thee  to  speak,  and  her  face  burns  and  pales.  And  Vrouw 
van  Boendale  also  seems  to  look  for  some  explanation." 

349 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  Women  are  strange  mysteries;"  said  Jan.  Wilhel- 
mina  kissed  him.  Rumors  of  war  came  with  every 
breeze.  William  the  Silent  had  endeavored  twenty-nine 
times  to  come  to  an  engagement,  but  Alva  had  deter- 
mined not  to  fight  with  the  patriots,  but  to  crush  their 
enthusiasm  by  delay.  There  were  numerous  engage- 
ments between  detached  troops,  but  only  one  severe 
skirmish,  and  at  last  the  Prince  of  Orange  was  obliged 
to  draw  off  his  forces  into  Germany.  A  fugitive  who 
had  been  wounded  on  the  Geta  reached  Zutphen  in 
October,  bringing  news  of  Hans  and  Belle-Isle.  They, 
with  Bilder,  had  won  great  renown  for  daring.  The 
soldier  spoke  of  Belle-Isle  as  having  a  charmed  life. 
"But  have  rumors  come  of  the  little  soldier?"  asked 
the  fugitive. 

"  We  have  heard  of  the  Spanish  devil,"  said  Hendrik  ; 
"  he  must  be  a  fearful  creature  for  his  slight  size  !  " 

"But  tell  us  more  of  Belle-Isle,"  said  Wilhelmina, 
whose  eyes  glowed  like  coals. 

Hendrik  winked  at  the  fugitive  and  said,  "  She  is  his 
wife." 

"  Saints  of  heaven !  "  cried  the  stranger,  "  that  Belle- 
Isle  rushes  into  the  thick  of  battle,  and  proves  that  he 
has  no  love  of  life  !  " 

A  shadow  fell  upon  Wilhelmina's  face. 

"  Nay,"  spoke  up  Jan,  "  that  is  no  reason  for  his  dar- 
ing. But  the  husband,  by  his  courage,  throws  glory 
upon  his  wife."  Wilhelmina  patted  Jan's  shoulder. 

In  November  Hans  Foot  burst  into  Hendrik's  home 
with  a  beaming  face.  "  Look  at  me  !  "  he  cried ;  "  do  I 

35° 


JAN    STANDS    BY    WILHELMINA 

come  like  a  heart-broken  lover?  By  St.  Bavon,  I  could 
kiss  Wilhelmina  from  brow  to  chin  and  never  feel  a 
thrill !  But  I  must  on  to  Leyden,"  he  said,  after  their 
eager  greetings,  "for  I  find  a  many  thrill  there?  But 
where  is  the  heart  of  fire  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  became  as  white  as  death.  "  Oh,  Hans, 
where  is  my  husband?  " 

"Not  here  yet?"  stammered  Hans,  "why,  he  had  a 
day's  start.  I  stayed  to  comfort  Bilder,  who  still  sighs 
for  thee;  I  took  Belle-Isle's  place  that  he  might  the 
sooner  greet  his  wife  !  " 

Winter  came,  but  nothing  was  heard  of  Belle-Isle. 
Wilhelmina  believed  him  slain  in  some  obscure  engage- 
ment. She  mourned  as  for  the  dead.  "  Jan,"  she  said, 
more  than  once,  "  speak  to  Kenau,  now.  I  will  not 
have  two  hearts  broken  on  my  account." 

"  There  is  no  haste,"  he  would  answer.  On  return- 
ing from  business  he  always  took  the  seat  next  Wilhel- 
mina. In  profound  silence  he  would  sit  holding  her 
hand,  sometimes  stroking  it  gently.  Sometimes  she 
would  rest  her  head  a  long  time  upon  his  shoulder  and 
look  at  the  dancing  flames. 

The  next  spring  Hans  encountered  Jan  on  an  Yssel 
wharf.  "  Well  met,"  said  Hans,  who  scorned  the  fool- 
ishness of  hand-shaking.  "I  bring  news.  S-st!  Belle- 
Isle  is  alive  !  Bilder,  who  is  in  Paris,  scraping  together 
a  vandera,  saw  him.  Had  he  known  there  was  a  de- 
sertion, he  would  certainly  have  killed  him !  " 

"  I  wish  Bilder  had  known,"  said  Jan. 

"  Belle-Isle  was  a  terrible  fighter,"  sighed  Hans  Foot. 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  He  is  a  villain,  the  black-heart !  "  hissed  Jan. 

"  I  would  I  could  say  nay  to  that,"  Hans  answered. 

On  his  way  home,  Jan  met  Kenau  in  the  garden.  She 
called  him  and  he  stopped,  looking  down ;  but  his  heart 
leaped  toward  her.  At  first  she  was  pale;  but  when 
she  spoke  her  face  flamed.  "  Jan,  I  have  been  talking 
to  my  aunt." 

"  That  is  always  a  privilege,"  he  responded  solemnly. 

"  I  know  what  thou  saidst  nine  months  ago,  Jan.  .  .  . 
Wilt  thou  not  tell  me  now?"  Her  voice  broke. 

"Where  is  Wilhelmina?"  cried  Jan  hastily.  She 
did  not  answer,  but  her  eyes  were  fastened  upon  his 
face.  "  Kenau,  Kenau,"  he  said  huskily,  "  do  not  speak 
to  me,  —  I  must  go  to  Paris."  He  hurried  into  the 
house. 

He  went  to  Paris  and  after  four  months  returned  with 
no  tidings  of  Belle-Isle.  The  next  year  was  the  great 
Holland  flood  in  which  one  hundred  thousand  perished. 
In  1571,  King  Philip  ordered  Alva  to  send  an  assassin 
to  England  to  kill  Queen  Elizabeth.  In  the  year  fol- 
lowing was  the  St.  Bartholomew  massacre;  the  same 
year  witnessed  Belle-Isle's  return. 

He  had  been  gone  three  years,  and  during  his  absence 
the  overwhelming  misfortunes  of  her  people  had  partly 
saved  Wilhelmina  from  the  sting  of  personal  sorrow. 
She  received  her  husband  without  reproach,  but  her  old 
sunny  smile  was  seen  no  more.  Yet  she  did  smile,  for 
he  was  repentant ;  but  the  light  upon  her  face  was  as 
sad  as  it  was  sweet.  He  did  not  enter  into  the  particu- 
lars of  his  absence.  He  had  lingered  in  England  until 

352 


JAN    STANDS    BY    WILHELMINA 

the  edict  drove  him  thence.  He  had  made  many 
friends,  but  they  had  been  friends  of  a  day.  In  his 
freedom  he  had  not  been  happy,  for  Wilhelmina's  face 
had  pursued  him  and  a  consciousness  of  her  shame  had 
shamed  him  to  return.  Everybody  was  sorry  to  see 
him  come  back  except  his  wife  and  Jan.  The  latter  did 
not  speak  to  Kenau  ;  still,  he  would  wait.  The  French- 
man felt  the  chilling  disapproval,  but  there  were  com- 
pensations ;  he  was  no  longer  treated  to  Vrouw  van 
Boendale's  illustrious  ancestor;  Hendrikdid  not  scheme 
to  place  him  in  the  shop;  there  was  no  sitting  about 
the  fireplace  in  dull  content. 

Belle-Isle  became  possessed  with  a  passionate  desire 
to  regain  Wilhelmina's  admiration.  He  looked  toward 
the  war  as  an  opportunity.  The  Netherlanders,  sub- 
missive under  every  ingenious  cruelty  that  Alva  could 
devise,  had  rushed  to  arms  under  the  new  tax  demands. 
One  may  see  one's  kindred  burned  for  heresy,  but  when 
one's  property  is  unjustly  taxed,  it  is  time  to  resist 
tyranny.  In  the  spring  the  Netherlanders  obtained 
their  first  permanent  victory.  Brill  and  Flushing  were 
captured,  and  many  towns,  Zutphen  among  them,  dis- 
played the  banners  of  William  of  Orange  upon  their 
ramparts.  But  the  spring,  bright  with  hopes  of  liberty, 
was  succeeded  by  a  tragic  autumn.  The  Spaniards  had 
not  been  paid  for  a  long  time,  and  Alva  gave  them  the 
city  of  Mechlin  as  a  reward.  For  three  days  the  city 
was  abandoned  to  lust,  fire,  and  cupidity.  The  women 
who  fled  to  the  altars,  or  hid  in  the  graveyards,  were 
at  the  mercy  of  infuriated  men.  The  most  beautiful 
23  353 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

maidens  were  sold  in  the  streets  at  the  tap  of  the  drum. 
Neither  Catholic  nor  Calvinist  was  spared. 

Belle-Isle  was  changed.  He  no  longer  carried  his 
face  up-tilted  as  if  to  catch  the  light;  song  did  not  burst 
unconsciously  from  his  throat.  Sometimes  he  drew  his 
wife  to  his  side  in  silent  remorse.  Then  she  would  tell 
him  again  he  was  forgiven.  He  knew  if  he  should 
desert  her  and  stay  away  until  her  hair  was  white,  he 
would  receive  the  same  welcome.  She  no  longer  re- 
garded him  as  something  superior  to  her  life ;  her  old 
manner  had  returned,  as  if  she  would  protect  him.  The 
maternal  air  refined  her  expression,  making  it  resemble 
the  faces  of  the  saints  in  the  frescoes  of  the  cathedral. 
She  felt  that  she  stood  between  him  and  her  father. 

But  to  be  admired  was  the  life  of  Belle-Isle ;  therefore 
he  could  not  be  happy.  One  day  Hans  appeared  at 
Hendrik's  and  called  Jan  to  one  side.  "  Comrade, 
this  horror  of  Mechlin  has  strangely  depressed  Anna. 
She  has  lost  all  her  pretty  ways.  Wilt  thou  not  bring 
Kenau  to  Leyden  to  make  her  a  visit  and  cheer  her 
heart?" 

"  Hast  thou  Anna's  love?"  asked  Jan. 

"  I  have  not  asked,"  said  Hans,  nodding  his  head ; 
"  that  is  my  little  stratagem,  —  to  see  how  thou  farest." 

"  But  I  have  great  cause  for  delay,"  said  Jan. 

"  So  have  I ;  the  reason  that  the  maid  may  say  nay, 
I  am  so  big,  she  so  dainty ;  the  Holland  Wolf,  the  little 
fairy.  Why  !  I  was  but  telling  her  how  Bilder  tore  out 
a  Spaniard's  heart,  fastened  his  teeth  in  it,  then  threw 
it  to  the  dogs,  crying  it  too  bitter  a  morsel  for  his 

354 


JAN    STANDS    BY    WILHELMINA 

stomach.  '  Ha,  ha,  ha!'  said  I.  Now,  what  thinkest? 
She  fainted  away !  I  pray  thee,  bring  Kenau  to  Ley- 
den  that  Anna  may  get  back  her  old  spirit." 

So  Jan  took  Kenau  to  Leyden ;  but  though  he  found 
the  journey  too  short  a  delight,  he  uttered  no  word  of 
love.  They  had  been  gone  from  Zutphen  several  days 
when  the  Janssen  household  were  startled  by  the  sudden 
entrance  of  Bilder  Kopperzoon.  He  heeded  not  their 
cries  of  welcome,  though  he  had  not  seen  them  since 
Wilhelmina's  marriage.  "The  army  is  coming!"  he 
cried  hoarsely.  "  The  Spaniards  are  upon  their  way 
hither  —  Don  Frederick  himself.  Where  is  Jan? " 

"  He  is  in  Leyden,"  said  Wilhelmina,  holding  out  her 
hand  in  greeting. 

Bilder  looked  at  Belle-Isle  through  his  red  eyes. 
"Canst  thou  do  aught?"  he  demanded,  not  heeding 
Wilhelmina.  "  Is  there  anything  in  thee,  Belle-Isle? 
The  city  must  be  fortified.  Come  !  "  He  rushed  from 
the  house. 

Belle-Isle's  eyes  were  like  stars.  He  threw  his  arms 
about  his  wife  crying,  "  Now,  thou  shalt  understand  me 
at  last !  Thou  shalt  know  Belle-Isle !  " 


355 


H 


Chapter  Six 

ROSAMUNDA'S   VOW 

ALT!  Who  goes?" 

"A  Fiend  de  Oviedo." 
"  Advance  in  the  fiend's  name,"  cried 
the  sentry.     "  Is  it  thou,  Cristoval,  fresh 
from  the  Duke  of  Alva?  I  would  as  soon  think  of  stop- 
ping the  fiend  himself!  " 

The  messenger  disappeared  in  the  night,  and  the  sen- 
try turned  to  his  companion.  "  These  Fiends  de  Oviedo 
are  well  named ;  they  are  one-half  Spaniard  and  one- 
half  devil.  That  makes  a  warm  mixture,  Toledo  !  " 

"  And  their  captain,"  Toledo  acquiesced,  "  he  is  so 
delicate,  one  would  think  him  better  fitted  to  be  a  page 
in  some  senora's  anteroom." 

"  Ay,  he  is  small,  but  his  fury  is  all  the  hotter  for 
being  packed  tight  in  so  slight  a  case.  Thou  didst  not 
see  him  at  Hermigny." 

"  Nay,  but  thou  hast  related  the  tale  so  often,  I  will 
go  thither  upon  a  pilgrimage  an  thou  spare  me  this 
once." 

"  I  shall  not  spare  thee.  William,  the  arch-traitor, 
lies  in  Hermigny  with  his  army.  Don  Frederick  calls 

356 


ROSAMUNDA'S    VOW 

for  volunteers  to  make  an  escamisada  upon  the  Dutch 
(whom  the  saints  confound  !),  and  the  Fiends  de  Oviedo 
volunteer  to  a  man.  With  our  shirts  drawn  over  our 
armor,  we  steal  into  the  sleeping  camp,  six  hundred  of 
us  —  " 

"  Hold,  comrade,  thou  art  not  of  that  company !  " 

"  I  say  not  I  was  one  of  them ;  I  say  only  that  for 
three  hours  we  did  naught  but  cut  the  throats  of  sleep- 
ing men.  Toledo,  heresy  received  a  wound  that  day! 
Enrique  de  Oviedo  led  us  here  and  there  where  the 
most  blood  could  be  spilt,  then,  standing  with  folded 
arms  and  that  terrible  look  upon  his  beautiful  face,  he 
whispered  '  Kill !  '  But  all  the  time  he  was  looking  for 
the  Prince  of  Orange.  They  say  that  heretic  was  saved 
by  his  little  spaniel,  which  scratched  his  face,  waking 
him  just  in  time  to  escape,  half-dressed,  upon  his  horse." 

"  It  is  very  true,"  observed  Toledo,  staring  through 
the  gloom  at  the  invested  city  of  Zutphen,  "  that  the 
captain  of  the  Fiends  de  Oviedo  is  beautiful." 

"  Ay,"  responded  the  sentry,  "  as  beautiful  as  a  woman. 
His  father  was  a  great  warrior,  son  of  that  Gonzalvo  who 
fought  battles  with  his  pen.  Wait  till  yonder  city  falls ; 
then  thou  shalt  see  something  of  De  Oviedo's  awful 
zeal  for  Mother  Church  !  " 

In  the  meantime  Cristoval  had  borne  Alva's  letter  to 
Don  Frederick.  The  commander  read  it  with  stern 
pleasure,  then  handed  it  to  his  captain.  "  Inform  thy 
company,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

Rosamunda  read  the  brief  message,  and  her  eyes  glit- 
tered. "  For  God,  the  Church,  and  the  King !  "  she 

357 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

exclaimed  in  a  thrilling  voice.  She  sought  her  quarters 
with  a  rapid  step,  and  summoned  her  men  about  her. 
It  was  the  fourth  night  of  the  investiture  of  Zutphen, 
and  thus  far  there  had  been  no  hostile  demonstrations 
on  either  side.  The  flare  of  the  torches  illuminated  her 
beautiful  face  in  high  contrast  with  the  savage  counte- 
nances of  her  command.  They  hated  the  men  behind 
yonder  rebellious  walls  of  Zutphen,  and  in  mad  ferocity 
were  eager  for  blood  ;  but  she  hated  the  evil  she  believed 
to  reign  in  their  hearts,  and  she  was  cold,  stern,  and 
eager  for  her  religion.  Since  her  father's  death,  her  one 
purpose  in  life  had  been  to  strike  against  heresy.  Noth- 
ing but  religion  now  swayed  her  faculties  and  desires 
—  except  her  love  for  Belle-Isle. 

It  was  years  since  she  had  seen  him  last,  but  she  had 
not  forgotten  his  most  carelessly  modulated  tone.  He 
was  canonized  in  her  heart.  She  had  forgotten  all  that 
stood  between  them,  and  it  was  her  delight  to  think  that 
somewhere  in  the  world  he  lived  and  loved  her.  Surely 
he  had  been  converted  to  the  true  faith  !  She  resolutely 
clung  to  this  belief,  for  it  alone  gave  her  the  right  to 
love.  On  learning  that  Anna  van  der  Loren  was  her 
sister  she  had  sent  Belle-Isle  permission  to  tell  her 
secret.  She  did  not  know  whether  or  not  her  messenger 
had  ever  found  the  Frenchman.  Nor  did  she  expect  to 
see  Belle-Isle  again. 

"  My  brave  warriors,"  she  said  in  the  clear  voice  that 
had  often  sounded  the  charge,  "  hear  the  command  of 
the  Duke  of  Alva.  When  we  gain  Zutphen,  every  house 
is  to  be  burned  to  the  ground." 

358 


ROSAMUNDA'S    VOW 

There  was  a  shout. 

Rosamunda  continued :  "  Not  one  man  is  to  be  left 
alive  in  the  city.  Not  one  child  is  to  be  spared." 

The  shouts  became  deafening.  "  A  De  Oviedo. 
Long  life  !  Long  life  to  the  Fiends  de  Oviedo !  " 

Rosamunda  silenced  them  with  one  motion  of  her 
slender  hand.  "  This  city  has  dared  oppose  the  march 
of  the  truth  of  God.  Swear  with  me  by  the  Holy  Cruci- 
fix, that  when  we  gain  that  city,  mercy  shall  be  shown 
to  none." 

They  held  up  their  hands  and  made  the  oath,  their 
eyes  catching  fire  from  hers. 

"  I  swear,"  cried  Rosamunda,  "  to  shoot  down  without 
mercy  any  of  you  who  is  found  aiding  an  inhabitant  of 
that  accursed  city,  whether  man,  woman,  or  child.  Now 
make  a  like  oath ;  swear  to  slay  me  instantly  if  you  find 
me  showing  mercy." 

"  We  swear !  "  they  cried.     "  A  De  Oviedo  forever  !  " 


359 


Chapter  Seven 

FOR   WILHELMINA'S  SAKE 

IN    Leyden,  Kenau   and   Hans  sat  with  Anna  van 
der  Loren  and  her  parents  as  guests.     "  It  is  a 
marvellous  thing,"  Hans  was  saying,  as  he  smote 
his  knee  with  his  huge  fist,  "  because  it  grows  not 
common,  though  one  think  upon  it  always.     The  little 
soldier  a  woman  !      Why !     I  have  seen  him  leading  in 
a  charge,  —  I    cannot  call  De  Oviedo  she,  it  were  to 
affront  the  language,  —  he  was  riding  a  white  horse  upon 
us  as  if  an  angel  of  death." 

"  Unnatural  woman  !  "  cried  Anna.  "  She  sought  to 
break  my  heart.  But  mother —  but  father — you  have 
forgiven  !  "  She  grew  pale,  but  Josephine  folded  her  in 
a  close  embrace  while  Gerbrand  looked  upon  the  picture 
as  if  he  had  painted  it.  Anna  looked  up:  "  She  is  nei- 
ther man  nor  woman,  but  a  fiend,  —  does  she  not  so  call 
herself?  " 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Hans,  "  but  others  call  her  so. 
And  as  Bilder  is  my  friend !  I  have  seen  one  of  the 
Fiends  save  his  life  by  receiving  the  bullet  meant  for  En- 
rique. Now  I  believe  though  the  Fiends  do  not  know 
their  captain  by  their  wits  to  be  a  woman,  her  sex  is 
communicated  in  some  blind  sort,  so  they  be  all  in  love 

360 


with  her,  yet  think  themselves  in  love  with  war.  But 
they  are  no  more  in  love  with  war  than  Anna  is  in  love 
with  me."  Hans  glanced  quickly  at  Anna  to  see  the 
effect  of  his  subtle  stratagem,  but  her  face  was  hidden 
upon  her  mother's  breast.  Hans  thought  it  wisest  to 
change  the  conversation,  and  sought  for  the  pleasantest 
thing  to  say:  "  Kenau,  when  do  you  and  Jan  marry?  " 

"  Never,"  said  Kenau,  flushing  angrily ;  "  but  it  is  none 
of  thine  affair,  Hans  Foot !  " 

"  Nay,  maiden,  I  ask  in  all  humility  of  spirit,  yet  fora 
certain  reason.  Be  a  friendly  lass,  and  tell  me  if  he  has 
yet  asked  thee  to  marry  him." 

Kenau  started  up  crying,  "  I  did  not  come  to  Brussels 
to  be  insulted." 

"  Hans  !  "  exclaimed  Anna,  running  to  Kenau,  "  I  do 
not  like  thee  —  thou  makest  war  upon  women  like  a 
Spaniard !  " 

"  Oh,  Anna!  "  wailed  Hans,  "  oh,  Anna,  do  not  say 
it.  If  thou  dost  not  like  me  I  will  make  war  upon  my- 
self. Oh,  Anna!" 

"  Cheer  up,  Hans,"  said  Gerbrand,  "  take  not  her 
words  to  thy  heart,  for  they  were  meant  to  go  no  deeper 
than  thine  ears." 

"She  does  not  like  me,"  groaned  Hans.  "  But  why? 
If  Jan  has  not  asked  Kenau  to  marry  him,  can  she  help 
it?  Why  did  Kenau  get  angry?  She  may  marry  Jan 
if  she  gets  the  chance,  and  if  she  gets  not  the  chance,  is 
that  her  fault?  Do  I  blame  her?  But  Anna  says  she 
does  not  like  me !  " 

"  Say  no  more,  Hans,"  said  Josephine  kindly,  "  the 
361 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

more    thou    sayest,    the    less    likely    art  thou   to  mend 
matters." 

"  Dear  lady,"  cried  Hans,  "  tell  me  the  right  words  to 
say,  and  I  will  make  a  song  of  them  and  never  leave  off 
singing.  If  Kenau  is  waiting  for  Jan  to  speak,  let  her 
be  of  good  cheer,  for  it  is  working,  it  is  working;  I 
have  observed  that  he  is  coming  to  the  point !  " 

At  this  moment  Jan  entered  the  room,  and  Kenau 
forgot  her  embarrassment  at  sight  of  his  excited  face. 
"Jan !  "  she  was  beside  him  in  a  moment. 

Jan  spoke:  "The  Spaniards  encompass  Zutphen." 

There  was  an  alarmed  cry.  Kenau  said,  "  And  thou, 
Jan?" 

Jan  nodded.     "  Wilhelmina  is  there,"  he  said. 

"  But  Jan,"  faltered  Kenau,  as  they  looked  into  each 
other's  pale  face,  "  if  they  surround  the  city  —  Oh,  Jan  ! 
thou  wilt  not  throw  thy  life  away?  Thy  sister  would 
not  want  thee  to  come  to  thy  death." 

"  Kenau,"  said  Jan,  taking  her  hands,  "  farewell !  " 

"  Anna,"  said  Hans,  "  farewell.  If  Jan  can  leave 
Kenau,  I  can  leave  thee.  Farewell,  Anna." 

"  But,  brave  lads,"  cried  Gerbrand,  "  this  is  madness  !  " 

"  I  will  work  up  a  stratagem,"  cried  Hans,  suddenly 
beaming.  "  We  will  kill  a  couple  of  Spaniards,  crawl 
into  their  uniforms,  and  enter  Zutphen  in  disguise. 
Pray  God  we  may  not  burst  the  uniforms  when  drawing 
them  over  our  bodies  !  " 

"  I  have  ordered  five  horses  to  be  at  the  door  in  a 
twinkling;  two  for  me  and  Hans,  three  to  be  led  for 
Wilhelmina,  our  father,  and  Kenau's  aunt." 

362 


FOR    WILHELMINA'S    SAKE 

"What  of  Belle-Isle?  "  inquired  Hans. 

"  Let  him  run  on  his  own  legs,"  said  Jan ;  "  they  be 
practised  in  the  art !  " 

"  Dear  Jan,  dear  Hans,"  expostulated  Gerbrand,  "  what 
can  you  do  with  these  horses  if  the  Spaniards  surround 
the  city?" 

"  I  shall  do  all  I  can,"  said  Jan,  "  and  leave  the 
balance  upon  God's  shoulders." 

"  But  not  until  we  have  tried  a  stratagem,"  said  Hans 
gleefully.  The  horses  were  heard  at  the  door. 

Kenau  clung  to  Jan.  "  I  see  thee  for  the  last  time," 
she  said.  "  Hans  is  a  Holland  Wolf,  but  thou  a  man  of 
peace.  Thou  wilt  be  slain.  But  thou  shalt  not  go;  it 
is  a  crime  !  " 

"  Take  good  care  of  Kenau,"  said  Jan  to  Josephine. 

Kenau  uttered  a  loud  cry.  "  Jan  !  Let  me  tell  thee 
Wilhelmina's  desire ;  that  thou  and  I  —  she  has  often 
told  me  —  and  thou  canst  not  save  her  by  going.  Stay 
for  the  sake  of  thy  sister's  wish  —  and  mine." 

Jan  released  himself,  and  seizing  Hans's  arm,  rushed 
into  the  street.  They  leaped  upon  their  horses  and 
dashed  away,  leading  the  other  three.  Spurring  through 
the  western  gate  of  Leyden,  they  took  the  road  that  led 
to  Zutphen,  fifty  miles  away. 


363 


Chapter  Eight 

BELLE-ISLE  PROVES  HIMSELF 

WHEN  the  rumor  spread  throughout  Zutphen 
that  the  Spaniards  were  approaching,  a 
resolution  was  adopted,  almost  unani- 
mously, to  resist  the  entrance.  It  was 
such  a  resolution  as  comes  in  rare,  electric  moments, 
when  life  seems  meaner  than  a  patriot's  death.  Bilder 
Kopperzoon  rehearsed  the  fate  of  Mechlin :  so  would 
it  be  with  the  wives  and  daughters,  the  old  men  and 
children  of  Zutphen,  if  the  gates  were  thrown  open. 
The  Dutch  burgomaster  shouted  from  the  wall  to  those 
demanding  the  city  keys,  "  We  stand  for  King  Philip 
and  the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  so,  with  God's  help,  will 
continue ! "  The  city  was  invested.  The  Dutch  had 
as  brave  hearts  as  ever  defied  a  foe,  but,  with  that  mar- 
vellous love  of  caution  and  imperturbable  slowness  of 
action  peculiar  to  their  race,  they  had  neglected  all 
means  of  defence. 

On  the  first  night  Belle-Isle  volunteered  to  slip 
through  the  enemy's  ranks  and  go  to  Naarden  for  sol- 
diers and  powder.  Other  volunteers  were  called  for, 
since  there  was  a  great  probability  of  the  Frenchman's 

364 


BELLE-ISLE  PROVES  HIMSELF 

losing  his  life  in  the  venture,  but  no  others  were  found. 
Bilder  would  have  gone  had  not  a  schism  suddenly  been 
discovered,  —  a  minority  which  at  first  had  been  silent 
began  to  speak  in  favor  of  opening  the  gates  and  trust- 
ing Spanish  mercy.  To  counteract  the  growing  alarm 
which  sprang  from  the  mere  presence  of  the  invaders, 
the  Holland  Wolf  must  remain.  Some  of  the  burghers 
smiled  sardonically  when  Belle-Isle  was  mentioned. 
"  He  will  never  return,"  they  said,  "  even  if  he  escape 
through  the  Fiends  de  Oviedo.  It  is  his  purpose  to 
run  away  and  desert  his  wife  again !  "  Still,  no  other 
volunteer  was  found,  and  he  was  commissioned. 

When  he  went  home  to  tell  Wilhelmina  good-bye,  he 
stepped  as  he  had  not  for  years,  so  springy  was  his 
tread.  He  told  her  in  few  words,  holding  her  to  his 
heart  "  Thou  hast  quite  forgiven  me?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Long  ago,  my  husband." 

"There  yet  remains  that  thou  shouldst  understand 
me,"  his  eyes  sparkled.  "  Wilhelmina,  the  wretch  that 
deserted  thee  was  Belle-Isle,  but  he  who  offers  his  life 
for  thee  and  this  city  is  still  Belle-Isle !  " 

"  Now  I  shall  be  proud  of  thee,"  she  said. 

"  There  was  another,"  he  murmured,  "  I  mean  —  a 
maiden.  I  could  not  drive  her  from  my  fancy.  Oh,  I 
could  not,  though  I  knew  her  heart  was  cruel.  But 
there  was  something  about  her.  ...  I  have  not  seen 
her  since  our  marriage." 

"  Did  she  love  thee,  Belle-Isle?  " 

"She?  She  knows  not  how  to  love.  When  we 
married,  I  thought  I  hated  Rosamunda.  But  I  was  mis- 

365 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

taken.  Those  years  I  wandered,  —  her  face  haunted 
me;  I  was  a  haunted  man.  I  saw  her  face  and  form, 
go  where  I  might.  She  was  very  beautiful." 

"  I  was  never  beautiful,"  said  his  wife. 

"  No,"  said  Belle-Isle ;  "  but  to  me  thou  hast  grown 
lovely.  The  thought  of  Rosamunda's  look  and  voice 
and  hand  no  longer  stirs  a  cruel  pain  in  my  heart  or 
prompts  me  to  flee  the  imprisonment  of  walls.  All  that 
is  past,  and  my  happy  dreams  are  of  living  with  thee 
alone, — just  Wilhelmina  and  Belle-Isle,  never  burden- 
ing our  minds  with  the  low  and  vulgar  question  of  mak- 
ing a  living.  Next  to  living  with  thee,  the  best  thing  is 
to  die  for  thee.  Bid  me  go  forth  and  prove  myself  thy 
knight." 

"  Go  !  "  said  Wilhelmina,  smiling  through  her  tears. 

That  night  he  was  lowered  over  the  wall.  It  was  the 
third  night  of  the  new  moon  and  very  dark.  Bilder 
promised  to  have  the  rope  ready  at  the  same  place  every 
night  until  Belle-Isle's  return,  —  or  the  city's  fall.  Four 
days  passed  and  nothing  was  heard  of  the  Frenchman. 

"  He  has  run  away  from  his  wife,"  sneered  some ; 
"  we  were  fools  to  think  he  would  come  back  to  this 
death-trap  !  "  Others  said,  "  He  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
Spaniards.  They  will  impale  him  before  our  eyes." 

Those  in  favor  of  capitulation  grew  bolder.  Bilder 
would  have  had  the  malcontents  imprisoned,  but  he 
found  they  numbered  almost  as  many  as  his  own  party. 
On  the  fourth  day  Don  Frederick  sent  a  messenger  to 
the  burgomaster  stating  that  orders  had  been  received 
from  Alva  to  spare  all  the  inhabitants  if  they  would 

366 


BELLE-ISLE  PROVES  HIMSELF 

throw  open  the  gates.  The  burghers  prayed  for  another 
day  to  consider  the  proposition,  and  their  petition 
was  granted.  Don  Frederick  was  well  content  to  wait 
another  day,  thus  saving  the  expense  and  labor  of  a 
siege.  The  inhabitants  watched  that  evening's  decline 
with  a  hope  that  scarce  dared  give  itself  its  name ;  while 
the  minority  dwelt  upon  the  folly  of  resistance  without 
ammunition. 

When  at  last  the  Spanish  camp  slept  it  was  very  late, 
and  earth  and  sky  were  dark.  Bilder  upon  the  wall 
crouched  at  the  appointed  spot,  holding  the  loose  rope. 
He  was  not  alone.  Behind  him  stood  all  the  male  in- 
habitants of  Zutphen,  breathless  with  suspense,  tortured 
with  dread.  Had  Belle-Isle  been  slain?  Had  he  de- 
serted? Suddenly  the  Holland  Wolf  felt  the  rope 
jerked  from  below.  He  whispered  to  the  burgomaster, 
and  the  news  spread.  From  the  densely  packed  throng 
burst  a  half-audible  sob.  Many  hands  pulled  at  the 
rope,  and  presently  a  man  stood  beside  Bilder  upon  the 
coping.  It  was  Belle-Isle.  Bilder  embraced  him,  say- 
ing in  a  choking  voice,  "  Thou  art  worthy  of  her  !  " 

By  a  prearranged  plan,  all  rushed  to  the  city  hall. 
The  red  glare  of  torches  fell  upon  Belle-Isle's  white  face 
as  he  addressed  the  audience.  "  Men  of  Zutphen,"  he 
said,  lifting  up  his  face  in  his  old  manner,  and  speaking 
distinctly  and  quite  simply,  "  I  reached  Naarden,  I 
begged  for  men,  powder,  supplies,  —  anything  to  help 
us  keep  our  women  from  the  Spaniards.  As  for  us 
men,  we  can  die,  but  it  is  not  so  with  our  loved  ones. 
Naarden  is  not  indifferent  to  our  fate.  She  sends  her 

367 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

dear  love,  but  as  for  munitions  of  war,  she  is  as  bare  as 
we ;  and  though  she  has  determined  to  defy  Don  Fred- 
erick, she  has  neither  powder  nor  soldiers.  The  day  I 
reached  them  they  had  just  sent  to  Sonoy  for  help  ;  but 
the  garrison  told  me  they  believed  Sonoy  is  herself 
naked  of  resources.  I  have  come  back,  knowing  the 
swift  measures  of  the  Spaniards.  There  was  nothing  to 
gain  in  delay,  and  I  feared  I  might  not  be  in  time  to  die 
within  your  walls." 

A  groan  burst  from  the  throng.  Bilder  seized  Belle- 
Isle's  arm  and  hurried  him  away,  saying,  "  No  need  to 
stay  here.  I  know  this  council  will  vote  for  peace,  as 
certainly  as  if  each  line  in  the  palm  of  my  hand  had 
the  meaning  of  the  future  written  under  it,  like  a 
good  map.  To-morrow  the  devils  of  Castile  will  pour 
in  upon  us." 

"  Not  to-morrow  !  "  said  Belle-Isle  sharply,  "  These 
huge  walls  are  not  so  easily  overthrown." 

"  True,  Belle-Isle,  but  men's  hearts  are  not  so  stout 
as  the  walls  they  build.  I  was  scarce  able  to  keep  the 
gates  closed  until  thy  return.  Don  Frederick  promises 
mercy.  Mercy!"  cried  Bilder  in  the  voice  of  a  wild 
beast.  "  And  these  fools  believe  him.  But  shall  we  not 
hold  out  to  the  last  —  them  and  I,  for  Wilhelmina?  I 
love  her,  she  is  my  life.  Thou,  too  Belle-Isle,  art  a 
good  knight  We  will  fortify  Hendrik's  house  and  defy 
hell." 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  cried  Belle-Isle,  his  eyes  burning,  "  let 
us  instantly  to  work !  " 

"  If  Hans  were  here,   Hans    my  echo !  "    exclaimed 

368 


BELLE-ISLE  PROVES  HIMSELF 

Bilder  as  they  ran  along  the  street.  "  I  shall  never 
succeed  without  Hans ;  it  was  I  who  spoke,  but  Hans 
who  performed." 

They  came  to  Hendrik's  house,  and  there  stood 
Wilhelmina  in  the  doorway.  "  Belle-Isle,  Belle-Isle  !  " 
As  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  he  looked  into  her  eyes ; 
they  were  shining  like  stars.  The  old  look  had  come 
back  to  Wilhelmina's  face  ;  he  had  not  seen  it  since  their 
wedding-day.  Belle-Isle,  Bilder,  Hendrik,  Wilhelmina 
and  Vrouwvan  Boendaleset  to  work  to  fortify  the  house. 
Curtains  were  hung  over  the  windows  that  the  heavy 
boards  within  might  not  be  detected.  Cobblestones 
were  torn  up  from  the  street  and  carried  within  to  be  set 
against  the  two  outer  doors.  The  workers  met  others 
engaged  in  the  same  work.  The  council  had  broken  up 
after  an  angry  debate ;  the  city  gates  were  to  be  thrown 
open  the  next  day,  at  noon. 

When  morning  came  the  Janssens  were  in  a  state  of 
siege.  Every  window  was  secured,  and  a  triple  stone 
wall  stood  against  each  outer  door.  Heavy  timbers 
supported  weak  places.  Loopholes  had  been  made 
looking  upon  the  street.  On  one  side  a  deep  canal 
formed  a  natural  defence.  Morning  found  the  women 
pale  and  exhausted,  for  the  fire  of  excitement  had  given 
way  to  the  chill  of  bodily  infirmity.  The  men,  also,  were 
haggard,  especially  Belle-Isle,  who  for  two  days  and 
nights,  had  not  slept. 

"  Now  to  bed,"  said  Hendrik,  "  we  shall  need  all  our 
strength  before  this  day  is  over."  He  turned  to  his 
daughter  and  embraced  her.  "  My  dear,  if  ever  I  have 
24  369 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

spoken  sternly  to  thee,  it  was  because  thou  hadst  no 
mother  to  teach  thee  a  maiden's  ways." 

"  Thou  hast  been  too  gentle  with  me,"  cried  Wilhel- 
mina.  "  But  not  too  gentle,  either.  When  one  comes 
to  die,  he  finds  he  has  never  erred  on  the  side  of 
kindness." 

"  Thou  shalt  not  die  while  I  live,"  said  Bilder  fiercely, 
"  and  I  know  thy  husband,  though  no  Catholic,  will  say 
Amen  to  that.  He  has  no  saint  in  his  meagre  Protes- 
tant repository,  so  he  must  trust  all  the  more  to  his 
sword.  But  let  us  to  the  magic  casket  of  sleep,  from 
which  one  draws  new  riches  every  day,  though  one  never 
puts  any  wealth  therein  the  night  before." 

While  all  slept,  the  cold  November  morning  wore  on 
toward  its  fatal  noon.  About  eleven,  Belle-Isle  started 
up  and  slipping  softly  from  Wilhelmina's  side,  crept 
downstairs.  He  lit  the  fire  on  the  great  hearth  and  as 
the  flames  danced  merrily,  he  stood  and  watched  them, 
with  a  listening  ear.  Presently  Wilhelmina  stood  by  his 
side.  It  was  for  her  feet  his  ear  had  listened.  They 
embraced  silently,  then  stood  watching  the  fire,  while 
the  barricaded  windows  made  the  apartment  gloomy  and 
strange. 

"  Now  I  must  prepare  some  food,"  said  Wilhelmina ; 
but  Belle-Isle  held  her  to  his  side.  "  Not  yet,"  he 
whispered.  She  looked  up  into  his  eyes,  and  then  they 
smiled  at  one  another.  "  Belle-Isle !  "  she  said  softly. 
Their  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Then  the  others  came. 

It  was  about  noon  when  the  tramp  of  many  feet  was 
heard.  Looking  from  the  loopholes  they  saw  an  impos- 

37° 


BELLE-ISLE  PROVES  HIMSELF 

ing  procession  marching  to  open  the  city  gates.  First 
went  the  burgomaster,  a  senator,  and  four  of  the  wealthiest 
burghers,  bearing  the  keys  of  Zutphen.  Behind  them 
came  a  long  line  of  priests  in  sacerdotal  robes,  then 
burghers  in  rich  attire,  but  all  afoot  and  unarmed. 

An  hour  passed  by,  and  outside  reigned  a  deathlike 
silence.  Another  hour,  and  the  ominous  hush  was  un- 
broken. Three  o'clock.  Then  they  heard  the  running 
of  light  feet.  Looking  through  the  loopholes,  they  saw 
little  children  running  and  clapping  their  hands.  "  They 
are  coming !  They  are  coming  !  "  cried  the  little  ones 
in  shrill  excitement,  "  the  Spaniards  are  at  the  gates !  " 


371 


Chapter  Nine 

THE  MASSACRE 

IT  was  not  long  before  the  Zutphen  procession  was 
seen  returning.     As  it  advanced,  it  formed  in  two 
lines  to  allow  the  Spaniards  to  pass  between  them. 
At  the  head  of  the  invaders  rode  Don  Frederick 
and  Julian  Romero.     They  swept  past  Hendrik's  house 
and  halted  far  up  the  street.     Behind  them  came  the 
knights  of  St.  James  of  Compostella  in  helmets  of  gold. 
Then  was  seen  a  strange  company  —  a  company  whose 
armor  was  not  gilded,  whose  weapons  were  ungemmed. 
But  in  spite  of  plain  attire  there  was  that  in  the  fero- 
cious faces  that  struck   the  Netherlanders  with  terror. 
Bilder  whispered    hoarsely,  "  The    Fiends  de  Oviedo ! 
Dost  remember,  Belle-Isle?" 

"  Wilhelmina,"  said  Belle-Isle,  plucking  her  sleeve, 
"  seest  thou  the  captain  of  those  demons?" 

"  I  have  seen  him  before,"  murmured  Wilhelmina. 
"  Oh  !  it  was  when  I  first  met  thee,  Belle-Isle.  He  was 
an  esquire.  What  a  beautiful  face  !  " 

It  was  upon  his  lips  to  tell  her  that  this  was  Rosa- 
munda,  but  something  stayed  the  words  —  perhaps  his 
promise  of  long  ago.  He  noted  lines  of  care  and  pain 

372 


THE    MASSACRE 

already  shadowed  faintly  upon  the  little  soldier's  brow,  ere 
time  should  come  and  cut  them  deep.  Her  company 
halted.  The  middle  of  the  road  was  filled  with  soldiers, 
while  between  them  and  the  houses  stood  the  unarmed 
citizens.  In  the  sudden  stillness  the  heavy  tread  of  an- 
other division  of  the  army  could  be  heard,  entering 
another  part  of  the  city.  The  burgomaster  stood  re- 
spectfully before  Don  Frederick,  as  the  Spaniard  proudly 
sat  his  Barbary  horse.  It  was  as  if  the  army  had  been 
turned  to  stone.  The  senators  raised  the  cry,  "  Long  live 
the  King !  "  It  was  taken  up  by  the  citizens,  and  the 
shout  rose  to  heaven,  —  a  shout  for  Philip  the  Second. 
Still  the  Spaniards  neither  moved  nor  spoke.  The  in- 
habitants looked  at  each  other  covertly,  while  the  color 
faded  from  their  cheeks.  Then  some  one  cried,  "  Long 
live  the  Duke  of  Alva  !  "  It  was  echoed  so  faintly  that 
Don  Frederick  smiled. 

Suddenly  the  tense  silence  was  broken  by  the  sharp 
blast  of  a  trumpet.  Instantly  the  army  started  into  life. 
Every  hand  sought  its  sword,  while  from  every  Spanish 
throat  burst  one  word,  repeated  in  an  inhuman  fury, 
"  Kill!  kill!  kill!  "  The  street  before  Hendrik's  house 
presented  a  scene  of  terrible  confusion.  The  cavalry 
rode  upon  the  defenceless  inhabitants  and  trampled  them 
under  their  horses'  hoofs.  In  the  first  moments  of  their 
amazement  the  Netherlanders  suffered  themselves  to  be 
overborne  and  butchered  without  resistance ;  when  the 
perfidy  of  the  enemy  was  understood,  retreat  was  cut  off. 
Some,  indeed,  fled  into  the  houses,  the  doors  and  win- 
dows of  which  were  then  secured,  and  the  soldiers  did 

373 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

not  seek  to  stay  them,  since  there  were  more  huddled 
together  in  corners  and  byways  than  they  could  despatch 
in  a  hurry. 

The  cavalry  now  dashed  forward  while  the  infantry 
formed  in  a  hollow  square  as  wide  as  the  street.  Again 
silence  reigned.  Here  and  there  a  body  writhed  con- 
vulsively within  the  hollow  square  where  all  the  slain  had 
been  heaped.  The  motionless  soldiers  held  rapiers  wet 
from  the  carnage ;  their  arms  and  even  their  faces  were 
crimsoned  from  the  lifeblood  of  their  victims.  "  This," 
muttered  Bilder,  hoarsely,  "  js  Spanish  mercy !  " 

Wilhelmina  and  Vrouw  van  Boendale  crouched  be- 
side the  hearth,  unable  to  endure  the  scene  of  horror. 
"  Thank  God !  Hans  is  safe  in  Leyden !  "  whispered 
Wilhelmina. 

"And  Kenau,"  said  the  other.  "But  why  do  the 
soldiers  wait  outside?  Pray  for  us,  Hendrik !  " 

"  Nay,"  said  Bilder,  "  let  us  rather  get  our  weapons 
ready.  Hark  !  "  From  afar  came  shrieks  for  mercy  and 
screams  of  agony.  They  drew  nearer,  resolving  them- 
selves into  cries  of  men,  women,  and  children.  That 
side  of  the  square  next  the  approaching  clamor,  opened. 
Then  Bilder  and  Belle-Isle,  from  the  loopholes,  saw  a 
mob  of  fleeing  wretches,  while  behind  them  thundered 
the  Spanish  horses,  Wild  jeers  rose  from  the  cavalry 
as  it  spurred  in  pursuit,  riding  down  those  in  the  rear. 
Terror  gave  the  fugitives  the  fleetness  of  the  wind.  On 
they  came,  never  ceasing  to  shriek  for  mercy,  —  on,  to 
escape  those  ironclad  horsemen,  —  on,  until  they  rushed 
blindly  into  the  hollow  square.  The  cavalry  halted,  and 

374 


THE    MASSACRE 

wheeled  about  to  drive  fresh  victims  into  the  trap.  The 
square  closed.  The  fugitives  found  themselves  between 
four  walls  of  lust  and  hate.  To  find  a  standing  place 
they  were  forced  upon  the  corpses  of  their  friends  and 
kindred. 

Then  a  second  massacre  began.  The  women  stretched 
out  their  arms  in  supplication  to  the  soldiers;  their 
answer  was  a  laugh.  Infants  were  struck  from  the  arms 
of  their  mothers.  The  men  crossed  their  wrists  in  token 
of  surrender.  The  sides  of  the  square  approached  each 
other,  slaying  as  they  advanced  toward  the  centre,  climb- 
ing upon  palpitating  forms.  Those  who  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross  were  disembowelled  as  ruthlessly  as  the 
staunchest  reformer.  The  women  were  subjected  to 
hideous  indignities.  It  was  the  order  to  destroy  every 
inhabitant  of  Zutphen,  and  the  soldiers  grew  weary  before 
their  hearts  ceased  to  leap  for  more  atrocities.  They 
were  not  content  to  torture  the  men  and  degrade  the 
women  before  killing  them ;  their  fury  was  unassuaged 
even  by  tossing  babes  from  one  side  of  the  street  to  the 
other,  catching  them  upon  their  spears ;  but  in  their 
frenzy  they  tore  hearts  from  living  bodies,  and  opened 
veins  that  they  might  literally  drink  the  blood  of  those 
they  hated.  When  at  last  the  soldiers  were  worn  out 
with  murder,  the  massacre  was  hastened.  Six  hundred 
men  and  women  were  stripped  naked,  tied  back  to  back 
and  thrown  into  the  Yssel  with  stones  at  their  necks. 

In  the  meantime  those  who  had  sought  refuge  in  their 
homes  had  listened  to  their  own  fate  in  the  screams  of 
their  neighbors.  Their  time  had  now  come.  The  doors 

375 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

and  windows  were  forced,  and  the  sight  of  those  who 
had  dared  seek  to  preserve  their  lives  inspired  the  Span- 
iards to  fresh  deeds  of  atrocity  and  licentiousness.  They 
were  to  be  seen  staggering  half-drunk  through  the  streets, 
bearing  booty,  —  furniture  of  all  kinds,  and  gold  plate,  — 
or  leading  beautiful  maidens  and  strong  men  to  be  sold 
as  slaves.  The  churches  were  profaned,  as  if  the  army 
were  the  enemy  of  Rome.  Captains  issued  from  the 
portals,  clad  in  consecrated  vestments ;  others  carried 
as  plunder  the  golden  chalices  of  the  sacrament. 

Night  came,  and  Hendrik's  house  still  sheltered  its 
little  garrison.  The  few  fortified  dwellings  had  been  left 
for  the  last.  The  moon  rose  bright  in  the  cold  sky  and 
looked  down  upon  the  stricken  city  from  which  still 
ascended  such  shrieks  of  agony  that  distant  towns  trem- 
bled, and  for  days  thereafter  dared  not  send  to  inquire 
the  fate  of  Zutphen.  The  few  who  had  contrived  to 
scale  the  walls  were  pursued  by  horsemen,  who  first 
stripped  them  naked,  then  turned  them  loose  to  wander 
over  the  frozen  ground,  or  hanged  them  to  trees  by  their 
feet. 

At  last  a  band  of  resolute  soldiers  approached  Hen- 
drik  Janssen's  home  as  if  they  had  marked  the  house  for 
special  vengeance.  Belle-Isle  and  Bilder  recognized  the 
company  by  means  of  the  light  from  blazing  buildings 
that  flooded  the  street.  They  were  the  Fiends  de 
Oviedo,  and  at  their  head  stood  the  little  soldier. 


376 


Chapter  Ten 

THE  KEEPING   OF  THE    VOW 


Y*~       ~"^HE  Spaniards  did  not  demand  the  surrender 

of  the  house,  for  they  realized  that  promises 

of  leniency  could  avail  nothing.     There  came 

JL-        a  terrific  blow  upon  the  door,  then  a  second 

and  a  third.     The  huge  oaken  portal,  supported  by  the 

triple  stone  wall,  stood  firm.     A  shout  of  impatient  fury 

came  from  without,  then  the  door  was  abandoned  and 

the   besiegers  rushed    to    one  of  the  windows.     They 

carried  a  heavy  beam,   supported   by  four  men.     The 

end  threatening  the  window  was  bound  with  iron. 

"  Now !  "  came  a  sharp  voice,  clear  as  a  bell.  It  was 
the  little  soldier.  The  four  men  started  forward  upon  a 
run,  slanting  up  the  beam.  Its  iron  end  smote  the 
window  and  there  was  a  crash  of  glass.  The  boards 
nailed  across  the  opening  held  firm.  "  Again  !  "  cried 
their  leader. 

Bilder  turned  to  Belle-Isle.  "  Stand  ready  !  "  he  cried, 
then  tore  a  torch  from  the  sconce  and  trampled  out  its 
light.  The  room  was  left  in  complete  darkness.  The 
defenders  retreated  to  the  hearth,  and  faced  the  threat- 
ened window,  their  bows  drawn  taut,  steel-tipped  arrows 
fitted  to  the  notch.  There  was  the  rush  of  feet  again, 

377 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

and  the  beam  thundered  against  the  barricade.  The 
wood  was  splintered,  and  the  loosening  iron  fastenings 
groaned.  The  Spaniards  shouted  exultantly.  "  Once 
more !  "  cried  the  little  soldier. 

Again  the  rush  of  feet,  the  deafening  blow,  —  and  the 
window  was  cleared.  The  red  light  from  the  street 
glowed  in  the  opening.  "Kill!  kill!"  cried  the  sol- 
diers, rushing  forward,  drunk  with  horrors  but  still 
unsurfeited.  A  head  appeared  in  the  opening,  then 
another.  There  was  the  hiss  of  death  and  two  arrows 
found  their  mark.  The  dead  Spaniards  fell  back  into 
the  street.  Instantly  Wilhelmina  supplied  Bilder  and 
Belle-Isle  with  fresh  arrows. 

Bilder  shouted  in  stentorian  tones,  "  Ay,  kill !  kill !  " 
Then,  turning  to  Hendrik,  "  Thy  bow  is  ready,  Father 
Janssen.  Ho,  ho,  it  is  a  great  night  in  Zutphen  !  It 
was  well  done,  Belle-Isle  !  " 

"  I  have  never  yet  killed  a  man,"  said  Hendrik  slowly. 

"The  Blessed  Virgin  has  spared  thee  to  a  ripe  age 
that  thou  mightst  have  that  dignity.  The  devils  come 
again.  Stand  firm  !  " 

"  Charge ! "  came  the  voice  of  Rosamunda.  There 
was  a  rush  to  the  window.  A  form  appeared  in  the  red 
glare,  then  leaped  into  the  room,  followed  by  another, 
while  two  more  clung  to  the  sill,  supported  from  below. 
"  The  Fiends  de  Oviedo !  "  shouted  the  two  who  had 
gained  the  room. 

"  The  Holland  Wolves  !  "  cried  Bilder.  The  intruders 
had  scarcely  drawn  their  swords,  when  an  arrow  smote 
the  breast  of  each.  They  fell  in  convulsions. 

378 


THE    KEEPING    OF    THE    VOW 

"  Here,  Bilder,"  said  Hendrik,  handing  his  bow, 
"  thou  canst  pick  off  one  upon  the  window-sill." 

"  So  I  will.     The  Holland  Wolves  !     Kill !  kill !  " 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  besiegers;  the  attack  was 
stayed.  In  the  street  they  surrounded  their  leader, 
talking  in  low  voices. 

"  What  say  they?  "  demanded  Bilder  impatiently. 

"  I  heard  some  one  say,  '  They  are  the  Holland 
Wolves,'"  answered  Belle-Isle.  "Look, — they  are 
forming  some  plan." 

"  That  was  a  great  thought,  my  crying  '  The  Holland 
Wolves  !  '  said  Bilder,  grinning.  "  They  will  think  Hans 
Foot  is  here,  and  his  name  will  be  handed  down  in  glory 
along  with  mine !  That  was  a  stratagem  worthy  of 
Hans  himself.  Poor  Hans, — and  his  plans  never  did 
any  good  but  to  feed  his  own  vanity !  But  I  wonder 
why  they  pause?  " 

"  They  have  lost  six  men,"  said  Belle-Isle,  "  and  they 
think  windows  come  high  at  that  price."  He  was  in- 
terrupted by  a  loud  cry  from  the  street.  "  They  run  !  " 
he  exclaimed  in  amazement.  "  Look  Bilder,  —  as  if  a 
vandera  pursued  them  !  " 

"  It  is  the  answer  of  God  !  "  cried  Hendrik,  who  had 
been  upon  his  knees  with  the  women. 

"They  will  return,"  growled  Bilder.  "  When  the  devil 
runs  away  it  is  to  get  him  a  sharper  sword.  We  shall 
never  pine  for  want  of  company  in  this  world.  Poor 
Wilhelmina !  Art  very  much  afraid  ?  " 

"  No,  Bilder.  Belle-Isle  has  promised  I  shall  never 
fall  alive  into  their  power."  Bilder  went  to  her  and 

379 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

took  her  hand.  He  looked  into  her  face  and  a  mist 
came  into  his  eyes.  Suddenly  he  led  her  to  Belle-Isle 
and  put  her  hand  in  that  of  her  husband.  Then  he 
turned  his  back  upon  the  group. 

As  they  waited  in  breathless  suspense,  screams  never 
ceased  to  be  heard  from  all  parts  of  the  city.  At  last 
the  roar  of  approaching  voices  was  heard,  broken  by 
the  jarring  of  heavy  wheels.  "  They  return,"  muttered 
Bilder,  staring  through  the  shattered  window  with  his 
red  eyes.  "  Ho  !  ho !  a  cannon,  by  St.  Bavon  !  Here 
is  short  work,  friends !  "  He  leaned  from  the  window 
and  shouted,  "  The  Holland  Wolves  !  —  the  two  of  them  ! 
The  Holland  Wolves  and  Belle-Isle  !  Kill !  kill !  Long 
live  the  Beggars  !  " 

"  The  Fiends  de  Oviedo  !  "  came  the  answer,  and  a 
bullet  struck  the  casement  above  his  head.  The  cannon 
was  wheeled  before  the  front  door  and  a  soldier  sprang 
forward  with  a  torch.  Bilder  drew  his  bow  and  its 
arrow  pierced  the  iron  links  that  guarded  the  brawny 
arm.  The  torch  fell  to  the  ground  while  the  soldier 
writhed  in  agony.  Some  one  sprang  forward,  snatching 
up  the  spluttering  torch.  It  was  Rosamunda,  her  white 
face  as  beautiful  and  terrible  as  that  of  a  destroying 
angel,  painted  by  a  master-hand  in  a  dream  of  genius. 

"  Shoot,  Belle-Isle  !  "  cried  Bilder,  "  in  God's  name  ! 
Oh  if  my  bow  were  ready !  "  Belle-Isle  drew  his 
weapon,  but  a  mist  passed  over  his  eyes.  His  arrow 
sped  amiss.  Bilder  groaned.  "  Stand  to  the  wall ! " 
he  shouted.  At  that  moment  Rosamunda  applied  the 
torch  to  the  cannon. 

380 


THE    KEEPING    OF    THE    VOW 

There  was  the  stillness  of  death,  then  a  terrific  ex- 
plosion. The  oak  door  was  demolished,  while  the  stone 
wall  was  scattered  over  the  floor.  With  a  savage  shout 
of  triumph  the  Spaniards  poured  over  the  debris  into  the 
room.  Belle-Isle,  seizing  Wilhelmina,  rushed  with  her 
to  the  farthest  corner,  Bilder  leaping  after  them,  his 
bow  discarded  and  his  huge  sword  flashing.  Vrouw 
van  Boendale  sought  to  follow,  but  the  sudden  terror 
and  the  sight  of  the  ferocious  faces  so  near  at  hand 
overcame  her.  She  fainted.  Hendrik  sought  to  lift  her 
up,  but  a  musket  sent  its  ball  through  his  head.  It  was 
the  only  one  fired,  for  the  soldiers  who  stood  upon  the 
ruined  wall  were  pushed  forward  by  their  comrades 
from  behind,  before  they  could  aim  their  firearms. 

"  A  woman,"  said  a  soldier,  pausing  to  stare  at  the 
insensible  form  beside  the  dead  Hollander. 

"  An  old  one,"  said  he  who  had  slain  Hendrik. 
With  the  butt  of  his  weapon  he  killed  Vrouw  van 
Boendale  in  her  swoon ;  it  was  an  act  of  mercy.  The 
inrushing  tide  swept  over  the  bodies  toward  the  distant 
corner. 

Bilder  cried  in  choking  fury,  "  Long  live  the  Beggars  ! 
Long  live  the  Holland  Wolves !  "  Those  who  were 
pressed  forward  sought  to  draw  back  at  sight  of  his 
terrible  face,  as  he  stood  before  Wilhelmina  and  Belle- 
Isle.  There  was  a  struggle  to  escape  the  giant  sword 
whose  fame  had  spread  throughout  the  land,  but  the 
way  was  choked  up  by  clamoring  men.  Some  dropped 
their  firearms  and  felt  for  their  daggers.  Others  caught 
their  muskets  by  the  muzzle  and  swung  them  at  Bilder's 

381 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

head.  The  giant  stood  before  the  Frenchman,  and  the 
latter  before  Wilhelmina. 

Bilder  reached  out  his  long  arm  and  with  lightning 
flashes  of  his  sword,  pierced  the  breast  of  a  soldier  upon 
his  right,  and  another  upon  his  left.  They  fell  in  a  heap 
and  those  who  were  pushed  forward  stumbled  over  their 
corpses.  Over  them  leaped  a  Spaniard  and  with  the 
butt  of  his  weapon  dealt  the  Hollander  a  terrific  blow 
upon  the  head.  The  Holland  Wolf  staggered  back  and 
Belle-Isle  caught  him  in  his  arms. 

A  wild  yell  rang  in  the  room :  "  The  Fiends  de 
Oviedo !  " 

Bilder  with  a  great  effort  rallied  his  shattered  powers. 
With  a  sudden  swing  of  his  blade  he  severed  from  his 
body  the  head  of  the  man  who  had  wounded  him.  For 
a  moment  the  body  stood  upright  in  its  armor  while  a 
great  jet  of  blood  spurted  upward  and  rained  down  upon 
upturned  faces.  Bilder  caught  the  head  by  its  hair,  and 
waved  it  above  his  face,  now  ghastly  from  his  own 
wound.  "  The  Holland  Wolves  !  "  he  cried  thickly, 
"  Long  live  the  Beggars  !  "  With  the  dissevered  head 
in  one  hand  and  his  great  sword  in  the  other  he  rushed 
into  the  thick  of  the  press.  Belle-Isle  saw  him  thrust- 
ing to  right  and  left  with  crimsoned  blade,  while  with 
the  head  he  dealt  blows  as  he  advanced.  But  at  every 
step  a  sword  was  thrust  at  him,  and  he  had  not  gone 
far  before  he  fell,  pierced  by  many  hands. 

When  the  Frenchman  found  that  Bilder  had  fallen 
never  to  rise  again,  he  looked  hurriedly  at  Wilhelmina 
who  stood  behind  him.  The  advance  was  suddenly 

382 


THE    KEEPING    OF    THE    VOW 

checked,  and  in  the  silence  Belle-Isle  whispered, "Close 
thy  dear  eyes,  Wilhelmina !  " 

She  smiled  and  closed  her  eyes.  "  Be  sure  it  is  my 
heart,"  she  said. 

A  clear  musical  voice  rang  near  at  hand :  "  Take 
them  both  alive  !  "  Belle-Isle  turned  about.  A  slight 
form  stood  between  him  and  the  red  eyes  and  the 
inflated  nostrils  of  the  enemy.  Belle-Isle  looked  into 
Rosamunda's  face,  but  Rosamunda  looked  at  Wil- 
helmina. 

"  De  Oviedo  !  "  cried  Belle-Isle  wildly. 

Rosamunda  looked  into  his  eyes.  He  thought  he 
read  a  gentle  message.  He  stepped  to  her  impulsively 
and  delivered  his  sword.  "  We  throw  ourselves  upon 
thy  mercy,"  he  said  with  a  bow.  Wilhelmina  cried  out 
in  terror. 

"  Bind  them ! "  cried  the  little  soldier  sharply. 
"  Bring  them  after  me."  She  walked  from  the  house 
while  a  way  was  made  for  her. 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Belle-Isle  to  his  wife,  "  I  know  that 
leader;  we  are  saved."  Men  pinioned  their  arms 
roughly  to  their  sides,  then  tied  them  together  by 
the  waist. 

"  Forward !  "  cried  one,  striking  the  Frenchman  with 
the  flat  of  his  sword,  "  but,  by  the  Virgin  !  it  were  better 
for  thee  to  die  here.  De  Oviedo  reserves  thee  for  some 
terrible  torture." 

"  Ay,"  said  another,  "  for  this  is  the  first  woman  he 
ever  fancied !  " 

"  True,  Christoval,"  rejoined  the  first,  as  they  pushed 

383 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

through  the  crowd  which  was  breaking  up  in  search  of 
plunder,  "  but  he  is  right.  Look  at  her  eyes  and  hair ! 
She  is  not  so  bad  for  a  Hollander." 

Wilhelmina  crept  close  to  her  husband. 

"  Stand  aside !  "  cried  another,  pushing  Belle-Isle 
back.  "  Look  at  her,  comrades.  De  Oviedo  is  human, 
after  all,  thank  God  !  "  They  gained  the  street  and  fol- 
lowed Rosamunda  who  advanced  among  blazing  houses 
without  looking  over  her  shoulder.  At  the  first  turning 
they  met  a  band  of  drunken  soldiers. 

"  Ho  !  a  dainty  morsel !  "  cried  one  of  the  revellers. 
"  Set  a  price  on  her,  comrades,  a  price  !  " 

"  She  is  De  Oviedo's  bride,"  said  Cristoval  with  a 
grin.  "  Forward  !  " 

"  But  you  have  also  a  live  heretic,"  exclaimed  another 
of  the  merry  party.  "Whose  bride  is  he?  Give  him 
up,  for  my  sword  is  thirsty." 

"  Go  hunt  thine  own  heretics !  "  retorted  Cristoval. 
"Are  they  scarce?  Our  swords  also  want  drink.  Stay 
not  the  Fiends  de  Oviedo !  "  The  prisoners  were 
hurried  on.  When  they  reached  the  High  Street,  they 
came  upon  a  company  of  soldiers  making  assaults  upon 
a  stone  house.  Rosamunda  halted  and  questioned  their 
leader. 

"  They  are  stubborn  devils,"  said  the  leader,  "  and 
their  nest  is  strong.  If  we  ever  get  at  them,  we  will 
hang  every  one,  man  and  woman,  head  to  earth,  ay, 
men?" 

Rosamunda  addressed  her  command.  "  Fiends,  stay 
and  aid  the  true  cause.  Cristoval,  thou  and  three  others 

384 


THE    KEEPING    OF    THE    VOW 

will  be  sufficient  to  come  with  me."  Some  obeyed  re- 
luctantly, sorry  not  to  witness  the  fate  of  the  prisoners ; 
but  no  one  thought  of  disobeying  the  little  soldier.  The 
captives  were  led  through  the  city,  seeing  upon  every 
hand  broken  furniture,  burning  houses,  ghastly  corpses, 
while  even  in  the  graveyards  and  before  the  church 
doors  deeds  were  being  committed  which  degraded  the 
masters  of  Zutphen  beneath  the  barbarians  who  sacked 
Rome.  Rosamunda  led  on  over  the  Yssel  bridge  beyond 
the  western  gate,  paying  no  heed  to  naked  wretches  who 
fled  past,  pursued  by  laughing  horsemen.  The  air  was 
very  cold,  and  the  little  pools  left  from  yesterday's  rain 
were  frozen  to  the  bottom.  As  they  passed  the  trees 
which  stood  dark  and  silent  now  that  the  moon  had  set, 
one  caught  glimpses  of  white  objects  swaying  under  the 
branches ;  from  these  issued  wails  of  agony  that  would 
have  moved  to  mercy  any  heart  not  hardened  by  zeal  for 
a  true  religion.  Thus  they  would  hang  by  the  feet  those 
naked  patriots  of  the  Netherlands,  two  days,  —  three, — 
in  some  cases  even  four,  ere  death  called  them  into  the 
presence  of  Him  in  whose  name  they  had  been  tor- 
tured. 

At  last  the  city  was  lost  from  sight,  but  the  red  glare 
of  its  conflagration  crimsoned  the  sky,  while  the  chorus 
of  its  misery  came  in  shrieks,  broken  by  the  dull 
reports  of  musketry. 

"  Halt !  "  said  the  leader  suddenly.  Nothing  was  to 
be  seen  but  the  level  darkness,  save,  not  very  far 
away,  a  huge  windmill  which  spread  its  arms  as  if  grop- 
ing its  way  in  the  gloom.  Rosamunda  laid  her  hand 
25  385 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

upon  the  rope  which  bound  the  prisoners  together. 
"  Come  with  me,"  she  said ;  then  to  the  men,  —  "  Wait 
here." 

"  But,  master  —  "  said  Cristoval. 

"Peace!"  said  Rosamunda;  "I  have  my  sword." 
Cristoval  held  up  his  torch  that  it  might  lighten  his 

i.  DO 

captain's  path.  The  three  advanced  about  a  hundred 
yards  toward  the  windmill,  then  paused. 

"  Comrades,"  cried  Cristoval  gleefully,  "  we  shall  soon 
see  a  thing  it  will  do  to  tell !  "  His  companions  laughed 
harshly  and  strained  their  eyes. 

Rosamunda,  looking  back,  saw  the  four  soldiers 
motionless  in  the  red  halo  of  their  torch.  She  addressed 
Belle-Isle :  "  This  is  thy  wife?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  the  Frenchman  eagerly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Rosamunda ;  "  I  saw  it  in  her  eyes." 

"  God  will  bless  thee,  little  soldier,"  whispered  Belle- 
Isle  hurriedly. 

Rosamunda  severed  with  one  blow  of  her  sword  the 
rope  that  held  them  together.  "  Has  she  strength  to 
run?" 

"  Yes ;  with  Belle-Isle,"  exclaimed  Wilhelmina.  The 
little  soldier  struck  the  bonds  from  their  arms. 

"  Escape,  if  you  can  !  "  she  said.  "  I  will  keep  them 
from  the  pursuit  as  long  as  possible.  Here  is  my  sword. 
We  shall  never  meet  again,  Belle-Isle,  never  again. 
But  after  this,  when  thou  thinkest  of  me,  thou  wilt  not 
be  sorry  that  we  ever  met  I  am  glad  to  do  this  little 
for  thy  sake.  And  I  am  glad  to  think  that  pleasant 
thoughts  will  keep  my  image  in  thy  heart.  Oh,  Belle- 

386 


THE    KEEPING    OF    THE    VOW 

Isle,  God  give  thee  the  happiness  he  has  denied  me  ! 
Now  run  —  run  —  run  !  " 

Belle-Isle,  thrilled  with  hope  and  happiness,  caught  his 
wife's  arm  and  rushed  with  her  toward  the  windmill,  too 
jealous  of  his  moments  to  give  Rosamunda  a  farewell. 
The  soldiers  hearing  the  running  feet,  hurried  up  to 
Rosamunda. 

"  In  God's  name  !  "  cried  Cristoval  wildly,  "  what  has 
happened? " 

"  Stand !  "  cried  Rosamunda  fiercely.  They  halted 
at  the  word. 

"  De  Oviedo,"  said  Cristoval  brokenly,  as  he  flashed 
the  torchlight  upon  her  face,  "Thou  hast  set  them  free ! 
Here  are  their  severed  bonds."  She  met  his  eyes  un- 
moved. "  Hast  thou  forgotten  thy  vow?  "  he  demanded, 
and  a  sob  broke  his  voice. 

"  It  shall  be  executed,"  she  answered  quietly. 

Cristoval  fell  upon  his  knees.  "  Oh,  my  captain,  in 
God's  name,  suffer  us  to  pursue  and  capture  those 
wretches !  " 

"  It  is  my  will  that  they  escape,"  she  answered. 

"  But  our  vow  !  our  vow !  "  cried  the  others,  kneeling 
about  her  feet.  "  De  Oviedo  !  our  vow !  " 

"  We  care  nothing  for  those  heretics,"  faltered  Cristo- 
val, "  but  we  love  thee,  De  Oviedo.  Comrades,  for  once 
shall  we  not  disobey  his  orders?  Come!  For  if  they 
escape  —  " 

"  Stay  !  "  exclaimed  the  little  soldier  sternly.  "  This 
is  my  will.  It  matters  not  to  a  soldier  how  he  falls." 

"  But  listen  !  "  Cristoval  suddenly  exclaimed.  "  The 
387 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

beat  of  horses !  God  be  praised !  they  have  run  into 
an  ambuscade !  Spaniards  were  hidden  in  yonder 
windmill." 

"  True  ! "  exclaimed  the  other  excitedly.  "  How  they 
gallop  from  the  tower  !  De  Oviedo  !  we  need  not  slay 
thee,  after  all,  since  thy  mercy  was  unavailing." 

"  They  cry  out  in  death  agonies !  "  said  one  of  the 
kneeling  forms.  "  Cries  of  heretics  are  sweet  music  to 
the  ears  of  the  faithful." 

From  the  windmill  came  an  exultant  shout :  "  Long 
live  the  Beggars !  Long  live  the  Holland  Wolves  !  " 

"  Merciful  God  !  "  wailed  Cristoval,  "  they  have  come 
to  life,  those  Holland  Wolves ! "  There  was  a  death- 
like silence,  then  the  little  soldier  spoke  without  a 
tremor : 

"  When  I  am  dead,  carry  me  to  the  Yssel  and  sink  me 
with  a  stone  about  my  neck,  that  no  one  may  look  upon 
my  body  and  say  '  This  was  De  Oviedo.'  Cristoval, 
thou  wast  the  friend  of  Gonzalvo  de  Oviedo ;  swear  by 
the  Crucifix  this  last  request  will  be  obeyed." 

"  I  swear  it,  by  the  Crucifix,"  he  faltered. 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Rosamunda ;  "  I  will  hold  the 
torch  that  your  aim  may  be  true.  Let  each  fire  at  my 
heart,  that  no  one  may  know  who  killed  me.  Remember, 
as  you  take  aim,  that  I  showed  mercy  to  Belle-Isle,  a 
heretic ;  and  that  I  love  him  with  all  the  passion  of  my 
soul ;  and  that  I  am  glad  to  die  for  him,  and  glory  in  the 
privilege ;  that  I  even  spared  his  wife,  and  am  willing  for 
him  to  be  happy  in  her  love."  She  held  the  flaming 
torch  from  her  body  in  a  steady  hand.  They  took  up 

388 


THE    KEEPING    OF    THE    VOW 

a  position  only  a  few  paces  from  her,  their  four  muskets 
levelled  at  her  breast. 

"  Fire  !  "  cried  Rosamunda. 

There  was  no  report.  From  Zutphen  came  ceaseless 
shrieks  of  agony  and  fear,  while  from  the  direction  of 
the  windmill  was  borne  to  their  ears  the  faint  echo  of 
galloping  hoofs. 

"  I  am  still  your  captain !  "  cried  the  little  soldier 
sternly.  "  While  I  live,  you  have  sworn  to  obey  my 
orders.  Fire  !  " 

A  sheet  of  red  flame  burst  upon  the  gloom  of  the 
night.  Rosamunda  fell.  Cristoval  dropped  his  musket 
and  ran  to  where  she  lay.  He  knelt  and  put  his  arm 
about  the  slight  form.  The  others  hurried  up,  and  one, 
lifting  the  torch,  flashed  its  light  over  her  white  face. 
"  Dead,"  said  the  torch-bearer.  "  Look,  —  there  is  only 
one  wound.  God  knows  my  hand  never  trembled  as  it 
did  when  I  took  aim  at  De  Oviedo.  How  beautiful  he 
is!" 

"  He  died  without  a  groan,"  said  another. 

"  He  was  not  one  to  groan  over  his  own  fall,"  said 
Cristoval.  "But  I  thought  as  I  reached  him  that  his  lips 
whispered  a  strange  name." 

"  What  name,  Cristoval? " 

"  It  sounded  like  '  Sister  Mala.' "  Cristoval  kissed 
the  cold  cheek.  "  I  was  his  father's  friend.  Let  us 
execute  his  last  wish.  But  first,  let  us  swear  upon  this 
dead  body  that  so  long  as  we  live,  pity  for  the  Nether- 
landers  shall  never  enter  our  hearts  !  "  They  took  the 
oath,  holding  their  hands  over  Rosamunda's  bosom,  seal- 

389 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

ing  their  vow  with  her  life-blood.  Then  silently  they 
bore  her  toward  the  doomed  city,  and  its  wild  light 
shone  upon  her  burial,  and  the  dark  waters  of  the  Yssel 
closed  about  her,  hiding  forever  her  secret  from  the 
world. 


39° 


Chapter  Eleven 

JAN  IS  READY 

IT  was  night  when  Jan  Janssen  and  Hans  Foot  came 
in  sight  of  Zutphen,  on  the  day  of  the  massacre. 
The    gaping   ruins,   reddened   by   internal    fires, 
caused  them  to  check  their   horses  behind    the 
stone  tower  of  a  windmill.     As  they  stared  at  the  devoted 
city,  realizing  that  somewhere  within  its  walls  were  their 
loved    ones,  perhaps   enduring  hellishly   ingenious  tor- 
tures, their  emotions  were  maddening.     Hours  passed 
in    impotent    fury;    then    Hans   exclaimed,    "A    torch 
advances ! " 

"  I  have  done  all  I  could,"  said  Jan ;  "  here  are  we 
with  the  led  horses.  If  God  wishes  to  use  us,  —  here 
we  are  !  " 

"  They  cannot  be  Hollanders,"  Hans  reflected,  "  else 
they  would  not  dare  carry  a  torch." 

After  a  long  silence  Jan  said,  "  They  run  this  way ; 
and  they  run  like  Hollanders." 

"  The  torch  stands  still,"  observed  Hans.  "  By  St. 
Bavon,  this  looks  like  some  stratagem  ! " 

They  rode  forth  from  the  windmill  and  the  running 
ceased.  "The  Prince  of  Orange  I  "  cried  Jan,  staring 
into  the  darkness. 

391 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

"  And  the  Holland  Wolves,  God  bless  them  !  "  cried 
Hans. 

"  Jan,  Jan  !  "     It  was  the  voice  of  Wilhelmina. 

"  My  sister  !  "  shouted  Jan.  "  Now  God  knew  I  was 
here  !  Quick  upon  this  horse  !  Father?" 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "  Belle-Isle." 

"  It  is  always  Belle-Isle  !  "  exclaimed  Jan.  "  Dear 
heart,  where  is  our  father  and  Vrouw  van  Boendale  ?  " 

All  was  told  in  a  word  as  the  horses  were  mounted. 
"  If  I  had  been  there  !  "  groaned  Hans  Foot. 

"Bilder  fought  for  you  both,"  said  Belle-Isle  as 
he  rode  beside  the  Holland  Wolf.  "  His  deeds  were 
terrible,  and  each  moment  he  cried  out  '  The  Holland 
Wolves ! '  He  died,  dealing  many  blows,  pierced  by 
many  swords." 

After  a  long  silence  Hans  drew  beside  the  French- 
man :  "  Whenever  I  go  to  battle,  —  and  that  shall  be 
until  Holland  is  free,  —  I  shall  always  cry  out  '  The 
Holland  Wolves  ! '  That  shall  be  for  me  fighting  in  the 
thick  of  battle,  and  for  Bilder,  fighting  for  me  in  Para- 
dise. I  shall  bestow  no  candles  for  his  soul,  —  he  is 
not  the  sort  that  is  plucked  out  of  purgatory  by  the 
burning  of  candles.  No,  no  !  I  shall  let  him  out  with 
my  sword." 

They  reached  Leyden  in  safety  and  were  received  by 
Gerbrand  van  der  Loren.  In  those  days,  the  patriots 
made  penniless  by  a  stroke  of  fortune  found  homes 
among  the  more  prosperous.  Love  of  country  and 
fidelity  to  a  new  religion  bound  the  people  together; 
but  Belle-Isle  had  restored  Anna  to  her  parents  years 

392 


JAN    IS    READY 

before,  so  he  had  an  especial  claim  upon  Gerbrand's 
heart.  At  the  end  of  several  weeks  their  new  relations 
had  become  adjusted.  Hans  said  to  Jan,  "  Is  it  not 
time  for  thee  to  ask  Kenau  ?  " 

Jan  in  a  burst  of  confidence,  placed  his  hand  upon 
the  other's  shoulder  and  opened  his  mouth. 

"  By  St.  Bavon !  "  continued  Hans  Foot,  "  I  cannot 
live  longer  in  the  house  with  Anna,  never  giving  her  a 
peep  into  my  heart !  " 

"  I  am  going  to  Amsterdam,"  said  Jan.  "  A  merchant 
there  offers  me  work." 

"  But  Kenau?  "  returned  Hans,  impatiently. 

"  But  Belle-Isle ! "  replied  the  other,  shaking  his 
head. 

So  Jan  went  to  Amsterdam,  while  Hans  became  one 
of  the  Wild  Beggars  of  the  Sea.  About  three  months 
after  the  ravage  of  Zutphen,  Jan  rode  upon  his  mule  to 
Leyden  in  response  to  a  letter  from  his  sister.  Avoid- 
ing all  who  might  recognize  him,  he  slipped  to  Ger- 
brand's home,  passed  through  the  garden-hedge,  and 
approached  the  living-room,  where  a  rosy  light  from  a 
generous  hearth-fire  told  of  good  cheer.  Jan  grasped 
the  sill  with  fingers  stiffening  from  the  February  cold. 
Suddenly  his  great  form  shook  with  excitement  He 
removed  one  hand  and  smote  his  knee  with  irrepressible 
emotion. 

Beside  the  hearth,  with  the  light  full  upon  her,  sat 
Wilhelmina,  her  face  irradiated  by  a  great  happiness. 
It  was  a  look  Jan  had  never  seen  upon  her  face,  —  a 
look  which  touched  him  deeper  than  the  freshness  of 

393 


THE    HOLLAND    WOLVES 

maidenhood  forever  vanished.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  hearth  stood  Belle-Isle,  or  rather  danced  Belle-Isle, 
waving  his  arms  and  singing  a  French  song.  But  it  was 
neither  Wilhelmina  nor  Belle-Isle  who  caused  Jan's 
excitement.  Upon  Wilhelmina's  knee  sat  a  character 
who  now  appears  for  the  first  time  in  this  history  —  a 
very  red-faced  and  formless  infant. 

Jan  burst  into  the  house,  shouting,  "  Where  is 
Kenau  ?  " 

"  Jan,  Jan !  "  cried  Wilhelmina  starting  up,  while 
Belle-Isle  with  a  blush  balanced  himself  upon  one  leg. 
"  My  own  darling  brother  !  Here  is  the  secret  I  men- 
tioned in  my  letter.  Behold,  brother !  this  is  little  Jan 
Belle-Isle.  Is  he  not  the  image  of  his  father?  " 

"Where  is  Kenau?"  shouted  Jan,  waving  away  the 
infant  as  it  was  extended  toward  him. 

"  Did  some  one  call  me?  "  asked  a  shy  voice  from  the 
inner  doorway.  It  was  the  voice  of  her  for  whom  his 
heart  called  so  long. 

"  I  foresee  a  wedding,"  exclaimed  Belle-Isle,  smil- 
ing into  his  wife's  eyes  with  that  golden  radiance  upon 
his  face  which  comes  only  when  two  hearts  shine 
together. 

"  Two,  two  !  "  cried  Jan.  "  Will  Hans  let  me  outdo 
him  in  strategy  ?  " 

Thus  in  the  darkest  hours  of  the  country's  history, 
though  liberty  is  far  removed  upon  the  horizon  of  a 
clouded  future  —  though  Leyden  is  yet  to  astonish  the 
world  by  its  heroic  endurance,  and  is  to  save  itself  by 

394 


JAN    IS    READY 

turning  the  waters  of  the  sea  against  its  besiegers ; 
though  the  day  of  the  "  Spanish  Fury  "  is  yet  to  be 
written  in  blood,  —  we  take  leave  of  those  lives  which 
have  intertwined  their  threads  in  this  story.  Without 
fear  we  bid  them  farewell,  for  love's  light  reveals 
happiness  in  the  darkest  night. 


THE   END 


395 


PRINTED  FOR  A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.  BY 
THE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS,  JOHN  WILSON 
AND  SON  (INC.),  CAMBRIDGE,  U.  S.  A. 


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